We Love Our Brother
by Flagg1991
Summary: Each one of Lincoln's younger sisters has a fantasy, and Lincoln is just the guy to help them make it reality. Some of his older sisters want him, too. Cover by Raganoxer.
1. Things They Should Not Be Feeling

**I was hesitant to write a harem story around the younger sisters, but it's a story I've never done before and I thought I could have fun with it, so here we are. Lisa creates a pheromoneal spritz to make Lincoln more receptive to his younger sisters' love, and the older sisters and some others get involved. Please don't lynch me.**

* * *

Lucy Loud had a secret: She liked trashy romance novels, you know, the paperbacks with pictures of hunky, shirtless men on the covers, their long hair fluttering in the wind. She had dozens of them packed away in a box shoved deep under her bed and covered with a layer of equally trashy horror paperbacks. She only read them late at night, when everyone else was asleep and the chances of her shame being discovered were at their absolute minimum.

Her attraction to these novels mystified her at first; the only interesting parts were inevitably when the hero "sank his burning man rod" into the heroine's "quivering chasm." The suspense was lame, the drama was lame, the dialogue sucked, and the prose was purpler than Luna's skirt...but the sex scenes were _very_ interesting.

She read her first romance novel by accident: While browsing through the adult fiction section at the Royal Woods Public Library, she came across a tattered paperback called _The Power of the Moon_. The cover was totally black save for a white, gibbous moon. _Wicked,_ Lucy thought, and took it home. She realized it wasn't a horror novel when she was over 100 pages in, but the sexual tension (she didn't know then that that's what it was) between the small town sheriff and the waitress intrigued her. She knew something was going to happen between them, and by the time it did, she was as excited as they were, her stomach fluttering and her heart pounding. When she got up from her bed after reading their big scene, she felt...squishy between her legs. Hm. Interesting.

After _The Power of the Moon,_ Lucy decided she wanted to read more books like that, so she went back to the library and found herself in the romance section, surrounded by a thousand brightly colored books. Oh. She blushed furiously as she scanned the titles, hoping that she didn't see anyone she knew. She selected five books, and brought them to the front desk with her head down. She could imagine the librarian looking at the covers and laughing at her. _Little girly-girl likes her love books. Hahahahahahahaha!_ The librarian simply checked the books out, put them into a plastic bag, and thanked her for patronizing them.

Lucy discovered a lot about herself from that initial batch of books. One, she got excited every time she read about sex, which was funny, since some of the horror novels she'd read contained sex and it honestly did nothing for her...except annoy her – get back to the vampire! When she was finished reading a certain scene, she would feel warm all over...and _hot_ between her legs. If a scene was _really_ good, her underwear would dampen. From these books (and online research), she learned that this was called "being wet" and happened when a woman was "horny" (per ). The same site defined "horny" as when a person feels "intense sexual desire." Okay. That made sense. Two, she wanted to do the things they did in those stories. The idea of "gentle lovemaking" with someone she "deeply loved" made her heart pound.

But who did she deeply love? No one, really, at least not in that way.

Then, one warm August night, she was sitting in the bathroom and reading a romance novel by flashlight when she heard footsteps approaching. Panicking, she leapt off the toilet and dove into the shower, pulling the curtain closed just as the door opened. Whew, that was...

The light snapped on, and Lincoln crossed to the commode. He was dressed only in his underwear. Maybe it was because she was just reading a highly sensual scene, maybe it was because she was already turned on, but when she saw his chest and his quivering stomach, his muscular arms and legs, the faint outline of his, uh, member in his briefs, her breath hitched and wet heat pooled in her loins. She watched, wide-eyed and panting, as he slipped down his underwear, and his virial masculinity sprang free. Lucy's eyes widened at the sight. It was long and thick and beautiful, with a crowned head and a pulsing vein running the length of the shaft.

Lucy's heart stopped and she sucked her bottom lip in as he held himself over the toilet. A yellow stream issued from his tip, and while urine was decidedly _not_ sexy, she flashed back to all the sex scenes she'd ever read where the man "erupted" and filled the woman with "molten love." Is...is _that_ what it looked like when a man "finished"?

It was beautiful.

When he was done, he pulled his briefs up, flushed the toilet, and turned. Lucy watched him go, his shoulder blades flexing under his warm flesh, his underwear clinging tightly to his butt. She took a deep, shivery breath and tried to calm her racing heart. Her mouth was dry, his stomach in knots. The heat between her legs was so great that it made her dizzy.

Lying in the bathtub, in the dark, Lucy masturbated for the first time, and when she climaxed, she had to bite her bottom lip to keep from letting out an earth shattering scream.

She decided something that night.

She wanted to have sex.

With Lincoln.

* * *

Lola Loud sat at her vanity and smiled at her reflection. It was a wide, toothy smile that lacked warmth or authenticity. It was fake. Painted on. She sighed and turned away from the mirror. She enjoyed pageants, she really did, but sometimes it was hard to smile for the people, because you didn't _feel_ like smiling, and when you don't _feel_ happy, how can you _look_ happy?

Usually, being on a stage in front of dozens and dozens of eyes, feeling them crawl across her body, the spotlight warm against her skin, Lola was _really_ happy. She could have a terrible day and be in the worst mood _ever_ , but stepping through that curtain and knowing everyone was watching her melted her stress and worries away. Lately, however, even that failed to excite her, because there was one person whose attention she wanted, whose attention she _craved_ , but did not get...at least not enough of.

His name started with 'L' and ended with 'incoln.'

Lola had always valued Lincoln's opinion of her over everyone else's, mainly because he was a boy, and Lola wanted boys to think she was pretty, and if _he_ thought she was pretty, then other boys would think she was pretty. He was, like, a representation of _all_ boys (representation was a word she had recently learned in history class – no taxation without representation!).

But he was also Lincoln. Sweet, goofy, caring, gentle, thoughtful, handsome _Lincoln_ , and she wanted him specifically to think she was pretty and to watch her and to pay attention to her. Though she would never say so out loud because it sounded mean (even for her), Lincoln was her favorite sibling after Lana, her twin...and sometimes, he was her favorite _period_. What he thought meant everything, and having his attention, his eyes and mind firmly on _her_ was...well...was what she wanted more than anything.

Only getting his full and undivided attention was difficult. She had nine sisters who were _constantly_ getting in the way, not to mention Clyde, Lincoln's best friend, and Ronnie Anne, that floozy who had a crush on him but was _sooooo_ big and bad she couldn't admit it. Poor Lincoln was always being pulled in a million different directions, and he had precious little time for her, which made her sad. She _needed_ Lincoln's attention.

Over the past few weeks, she had been going out of her way to get it with mixed results. This past Sunday, she held him hostage for nearly two hours playing tea party, and the whole time he looked _very_ bored. That hurt her feelings, and she finally released him. The next day, she was reading a fashion blog online when it hit her: Boys like it when girls wear skimpy clothes. Of course, duh! Every time they were at the mall or the grocery store and a girl passed by in short shorts and a halter top, both Lincoln _and_ their father paid attention. The female body was like catnip to boys.

She selected the shortest pair of shorts she had and slipped them on. She studied herself in the mirror, and decided that while they were certainly tight enough, they were _not_ short enough, so she used a razor to shave off two inches of denim. She put them on again, and grinned at herself. Her milky white legs were smooth and pretty. Lincoln would _definitely_ pay attention.

Next, she put on a pink tank top. Sitting at her vanity, she applied a fresh coat of pink lip-gloss and black mascara.

In the hall, she started for the stairs, but Luan popped up in front of her. "Hey, Lola, wanna – uh, why are you dressed like a prostitute?"

Lola shoved her sister aside. "Outta the way, Bozo."

"I always did like _clowning_ around," Luan said, and slapped her knobby knee.

Lola ignored her and went downstairs. Lincoln was lounging in the armchair, his legs dangling over one arm and his head resting against the other. He was reading one of those stupid comic books.

 _How about you read_ this _instead?_ she thought as she strutted past him, wiggling her hips and shaking her butt. She looked sexily over her shoulder, and bared her teeth when she saw he wasn't looking: He was still engrossed in that dumb comic.

Sighing, Lola strutted past him again.

He flipped a page.

She balled her fists. _Look at me, damn it!_

She made one more pass. He _still_ wasn't looking. Apparently she needed to change tactics. "Oh, hi, Lincy, I didn't see you there," she said over her shoulder.

"Hey," he said flatly.

 _I oughta snatch that thing out of his hand._ Instead, she leaned over him. "What'cha reading?"

"Ace Savvy comic," he replied.

"Oh?"

She was so close her nose was almost touching the top of the book. Finally, he glanced up, and recoiled with a strangled cry. "Hi!" she said.

He looked up her up and, his chest rising and falling. "Uh...n-nice outfit," he said.

"You like it?" she asked, striking a pose and putting her hand on her hip. "It's something I just...threw together."

He nodded. "It looks...uh...nice."

"Thank you," she said, and cocked her head. He nodded and slowly lifted the comic, blocking out his cute, freckled face. _Oh, no you don't!_ Thinking fast, she hopped into his lap. He jerked and let out a breathless _umph_. She "accidentally" drove her elbow into his stomach, and he slightly rolled, making a space just large enough for her to slip into. "Ahhh," she said. Next to her, Lincoln held his stomach and tried to catch his breath. "Whip out that comic and let's read it."

Lincoln coughed. "You ruptured my spleen."

"Oh, quit being dramatic," Lola said.

Lincoln rolled off of the chair and crashed to the floor, where he lay facedown...and still.

Lola leaned over. "Uh, Lincoln?"

She didn't rupture his spleen, but ever since then, he had been avoiding her. How, oh how, could she get his attention?

* * *

 _Stupid Japanese hunk of crap,_ Lana flashed, kicking the plastic tire of hers and Lola's battery powered Jeep. Pain exploded in her foot, and she let out a high-pitched cry, bending her knee and hopping on one foot. "Ow, that hurt!" she cried, limping over to her workbench and leaning against it. She sucked a hissing gulp of air and let it out through clenched teeth. She threw a dangerous glance over her shoulder: The Jeep was sitting in the middle of the garage, all pink and frilly and mocking. She could imagine it laughing at her in a high-pitched, squealing voice. "Screw you!" she hissed, and bent to rub her foot.

Lana loved working with her hands. Carpentry, mechanics, the works. To some people that stuff might have been work, but to her it was a hobby, a passion even. That didn't mean she wanted to fix that stupid Jeep every five minutes because it kept breaking down, though. If it wasn't one thing it was another. Cracked rear axle, wiring issues, tires popping off when you were driving and causing you to flip over. "Where'd you get this thing," she asked her father once, "the landfill?"

That earned her a day's grounding.

It was true, though! The Jeep was a piece of garbage.

Presently, she went over to it and knelt. "Alright," she said, grabbing a screwdriver, "I don't like you, and you don't like me, but unless you wanna wind up on the curb Monday morning, you better roll over and think of England."

That was a phrase she read in one of Lucy's books...the ones she kept hidden under her bed. Lana found them one day when she was playing indoor football with Lynn in the hall and the ball bounced into Lucy's room and space between her box spring and the floor. Lana crawled underneath to get it, and in the process she bumped into the box and a book fell out. Lana picked it up to put it back, but the cover caught her attention. A muscular man with long, flowing blonde hair held a woman in his arms. He was wearing a white frilly pirate shirt that revealed his bulging pecks...she was wearing some kind of pink dress. In the background, a city burned. CONFEDERATE DESIRE the title read. Huh. Lana liked to read every now and then, and something with a whole city burning up _had_ to be cool, so she tucked it into her overalls and crawled back out.

It was a pretty good book. Lots of war stuff: One dude got hit in the leg by a cannonball, and it came off. There was one part where this English woman who was a prostitute had sex with this big, ugly, smelly Confederate general, and it said she just "laid back and thought of England." Lana supposed that meant she didn't like it. She _did_ like having sex with the dashing Confederate colonel: They did it during a rainstorm in the mud, and Lana read with wide eyes, a faint stirring in her stomach. Whoa.

Lana knew what sex was: Lisa took it upon herself to explain it to her younger sisters in excruciating detail "So that you may identify inappropriate behavior" and "realize when someone is attempting to assault or otherwise molest you." From what Lisa said, it was smelly, sweaty, and gross...Lana _liked_ it. It wasn't until she read _Confederate Desire_ that she actually felt...well...desire. Whenever it rained, she would look longingly into the yard and imagine rolling in the mud with someone and sigh.

She didn't know when she began thinking of Lincoln as that someone. There was really no one "moment" she could point to. She just started to notice how cute and nice and _amazing_ he was. One rainy day, as she stared out at all that mud, she imagined her and Lincoln rolling in it, all naked and dirty, and her heart bounced. That sounded _fun_.

Presently, she slid under the Jeep and went back to work, only she wasn't focused, she was thinking of Lincoln. Lisa said "sexual functions" don't "mature" until the onset of puberty, but she was wrong. Lana was acutely aware of the heat between her hips, and when she thought of Lincoln on top of her, doing to her what the rebel colonel did to the British hooker in _Confederate Desire_ , a shiver ran down her spine. Only...whenshe thought about doing it with Lincoln, it wasn't gentle like it was in the book. It was rough and tumble, like a fight. Something about being dirty and sweaty and _rough_ really made her knees quiver.

She jabbed herself with the screwdriver and cried out. "Goddamn it!" She punched the Jeep's undercarriage, and pain snaked up her arm. "That's it!"

She slid out from under, got to her feet, and glared at the Jeep. "Stay broken, then! Last time I help _your_ ass!"

Inside, she found Lincoln sitting in the armchair and playing a video game. He was hyper-focused, his brows knitted and his lips pursed. Her heart sputtered and she froze. Should she talk to him? Should she walk away?

"H-Hey, Linc," she stammered.

"Hey," he said.

"What'cha playing?"

"Space Wars 20."

"Ah." On the screen, a spaceship exploded into a million pieces, and Lincoln groaned. Lana flopped down on the couch and watched him play, stealing sidelong glances at him, her tongue unconsciously running along her bottom lip. The spot at the juncture of her thighs panged.

Soon, Linc-o, she thought with a grin, we're going to reenact a Civil War battle...

* * *

Lisa Loud stroked her chin thoughtfully, her lips scrunched to one side. On the computer screen before her was a complication of videos, each a tiny box containing an interaction between Lincoln and one of her sisters. Here was Lola strutting back and forth in front of Lincoln while he read a comic book, completely unaware; there was Lana looking at him and licking her chops like a hungry dog, and there was Lucy under her covers, her head thrown back and her breaths coming in quick gasps. Three girls, ages 6, 6, and 8, displaying lustful desires that they by all rights should not be feeling. Lisa tapped her index finger against her lips as her eyes darted from one box to the next. Peculiar.

She wasn't _too_ surprised. Something told her that sexual feelings could develop in her sisters at an earlier age than normal. Her parents obviously had strong libidos, so it stood to reason that their proclivity for sex might be passed down to their children just as easily as Mom's blonde hair and Dad's brown eyes. She studied her older siblings for signs of this, but, amazingly, she found none...at least none beyond what is normal for an adolescent or teenager. Lincoln had recently discovered the joys of masturbation and did it at least once a day, more often twice: Once after school and again before bed. Lori was sexually active with Bobby. Luna was not a virgin (she told Luan about a boy she slept with after a concert). Luan was known to touch herself, but not with any consistency. Lynn masturbated quite frequently. Leni...well...Leni certainly noticed "hot guys" on TV and in public, but she seemed to have the same sex drive that Lisa herself had: Nonexistent.

Lisa could certainly appreciate physical beauty, but she did not feel desire. The thought of sex did nothing for her either way. It did not repulse her, but it did not excite her either.

This lack of libido did not disturb her. She understood that while she might have the mind of a forty-year-old scientist, she had the body of a four-year-old girl. It _did_ disturb her that she had yet to experience sex, as it was such a monumental milestone in human development. The idea of innocence and virginity being tied together irritated her, because she was certainly not "innocent" or a "child" even though she technically was the latter. It also annoyed her that sexual intercourse was tied to "growing up," as if one cannot be an adult until they've done it. She dismissed these notions, but deep down, they bothered her. She wanted very much to shed herself of her cumbersome virginity and move past that step in life. She had never given the matter much tangible thought until she noticed her older siblings lusting after Lincoln; the one sided sexual tension was so thick you could cut a slice off and lay it on a plate. Now, she was beginning to see Lincoln in a new light; he would make a fine...subject...for an experiment.

Setting that aside for a moment, she watched her sisters and sighed. Lola, Lana, and Lucy were all very obviously interested in him, and it would only be a matter of time before conflict arose. Petty conflict agitated Lisa, and she resolved to head this off at the pass.

She would call a very special sister meeting.


	2. Attack of the Sisters

Lincoln Loud came through the door on the afternoon of Wednesday, September 21, and shrugged out of his backpack. Damn, another rough day. First, he slipped on _something_ in the hall and busted his ass. This happened before the first bell, when the corridor was _packed_ with kids: Half the school saw him go down, and half the school pissed itself laughing at him. Of course since this is 2017, videos of it popped up online within minutes. At lunch he went through them all on his phone, drawing horror on his face. WHITE HAIR KID SLIPS AND FALLS; GEEK GOES DOWN; DUM NIGGA DIVIN. There was even a 'remix' where he fell, jumped back up, fell, and jumped back up again to some weird techno music. He banged his head against the table. _My life is over._

"Cheer up, buddy," Clyde said serenely as he opened his milk and took a drink, "it's not as bad as the one they posted of me."

Three months ago some airhead jock pantsed Clyde in the hallway, only his underwear came down too, and everyone saw Clyde's privates; kids were _still_ calling him "Small Balls McBride."

"At least YouTube took your video down," Lincoln said, "mine's going to be there forever."

"Falling down happens, Lincoln. How many of these assholes do you think have never gone down?"

"I know it _happens_ , but..."

He trailed off as Ronnie Anne Santiago sank into the seat across from him and laid her tray on the table. Lincoln's heartbeat sped up. With her freckles, liquid dark eyes, cute, upturned nose, and soft, caramel-colored skin, Ronnie Anne was _hot_. "Hey, lame-ass," she said, "have a nice trip?"

Lincoln rested his chin in his palm and nodded. "Uh-huh."

She lifted an eyebrow. "You okay?"

"Uh-huh."

Under the table, Clyde rammed his elbow into Lincoln's ribs, and Lincoln started. Right. He was getting goofy again. It happened when Ronnie Anne was around. "Did you see the videos?" Ronnie Anne asked.

"Unfortunately," Lincoln replied.

"Mine's the best. LAME LOSER FALLS DOWN REMIX.

Lincoln gaped. "That was _you?"_

"Yep," Ronnie smiled proudly, "50,000 views."

Lincoln clunked his head against the table and sighed. Clyde absently patted him on the back as he ate his sandwich. Sometimes, Lincoln wondered if Ronnie Anne _really_ liked him or if she was full of shit. She probably was. He liked her _so_ much, and look what she did to him.

You know what, fuck her. Fuck all of them.

He shrugged away from Clyde's hand, got up, and stormed off. "Hey, lame-ass, where you going?" Ronnie called after him, but he ignored her. He spent the rest of the lunch period in the boys' room, seething with uncharacteristic rage. Why does this shit always happen to me? Why do I always get the short end of the stick? Goddamn, is it because I'm nice? Alright, I'll be a dick, how about that?

In math class, Ronnie kept looking back at him and trying to get his attention. For the longest time he ignored her, but she wouldn't take a fucking hint. Finally, without looking up from his paper, he flipped her the bird.

"Fuck you too!" she whispered.

"Mr. Loud!" Mrs. Johnson cried. "What is _that?"_

Lincoln flashed. "It's my middle finger. Wanna see?" He aimed it directly at her, and she swooned.

"Principal's office! Now!"

"Pffft." He knocked his book onto the floor, got up, and sulked out. He could feel everyone looking at him, so he waved his middle finger at them. "Fuck all ya'll."

" _Get out of my classroom!"_

The principal, an effete little four-eyed asshole named Mr. Mamatas, watched Lincoln over steepled fingers. "Where did we go wrong by you, Mr. Loud? You're normally such an agreeable boy. What has turned you into the monster that sits before me now?"

"Can I go, please?" Lincoln asked, crossing his arms. "It's almost time for my next class."

Mr. Mamatas drew a heavy sigh. "Very well, Mr. Loud, but watch yourself, or you will wind up in ISS."

"Sure thing."

It was strange being a bastard, but you know what? It felt kind of good...the way crying feels good when you're really sad.

It was draining, though. Currently, as he kicked out of his shoes, he felt empty; he needed a nap. Before he could start up the stairs, though, Lucy popped up out of nowhere, her hands clasped behind her back. Lincoln started and fell against the wall. "Hey, Linc," she said in her flat, monotonous tone.

"One of these days you're going to sneak up on me, and instead of screaming and falling down I'm going to throw a punch."

Though her eyes were hidden behind her bangs, he got the impression that she blinked. "Whatever, physical pain pales in comparison to the profound existential pain I feel inside."

 _God, here we go again._

"Anyway," she continued, taking a tentative step forward, "I was wondering if you could listen to my new poem."

Lincoln started to snap, but closed his mouth and took a deep breath through his nose. The assholes at school deserved Jerk Lincoln, but Lucy and his other sisters did not. Sure, they pissed him off sometimes, but he loved them and they loved him, so there was that.

"Alright," he said, "I will listen to your poem. Just let me take a leak first, okay?"

She smiled broadly, and Lincoln couldn't help cocking an eyebrow. Since when does Elvira _smile?_

On his way to the bathroom, Lola popped out of her room and threw herself into his path. She was wearing a pink two piece bikini. "Hey, Linc, how does this look?"

He looked her up and down, disgusted to find himself lingering on her legs and stomach. "Fine, it looks fine," he said.

Her eyes brightened. "Thank you! You know, I can model some more outfits if you're interested..."

"Maybe later," Lincoln said, "right now I have to..."

Lana sprang out of her room, dove over Lola's head, and crashed into him. He screamed, lost his balance, and busted his ass for a second time that day. Lana clutched his shirt in her hands and leaned in; he leaned back. "Wanna wrestle?" she asked.

"No, I don't..."

"Because you're afraid I'm gonna win, huh?" she asked. She surprised him by slapping him in the face. "Come on, Linc, man up and whip your little sister's ass."

Lincoln took a deep breath through clenched teeth. He was starting to get angry. "Get off of me," he said dangerously.

Instead, she grabbed his cowlick and yanked, bringing tears to his eyes.

"Get off of him, Lana," Lola commanded, "he's going to help me pick out something to wear."

"Actually he's going to listen to my new poem," Lucy said, and Lola jumped.

" _We're_ gonna wrestle," Lana said, "aren't we...?" her word cut off as Lincoln shoved her away. She fell to the floor and bumped her head.

"Now _that's_ what I'm talking about!"

Lincoln started getting to his feet, but Lana kicked him in the back of the knee, and he sank down with a cry.

"You don't kick Lincoln!" Lola yelled. She grabbed her sister by her pigtails and dragged her back. Lana yelped, and spun. "Get your hands off me, glitter bitch."

"Stick a plunger in it, grease monkey," Lola growled.

"You can both screw off," Lucy said, her voice still flat and emotionless. "I had him first."

" _Enough!"_ Lincoln cried, and everyone turned, their mouths snapping shut. Panting, his knee on fire, he got to his feet. "I don't know _what_ the hell your problem is, but you're all getting on my last nerve! No poems, no fashion shows, and no WWF matches! Leave me alone!"

"What's the yelling about?" Lori asked sharply, poking her head out of her room.

"None of your damn business!" Lincoln flashed.

Lori gaped, then knitted her brows. "Fuck you." Then she disappeared by into her room.

Shaking his head and muttering to himself, Lincoln went into the bathroom. He did _not_ need this shit right now.

When the door closed, Lola shot Lana a dirty look. "Nice job, Andre the Giant."

"Me?" Lana asked. "You scared him off by dressing like Jodie Foster in _Taxi Driver!"_

Lola gasped, her hand flying to her chest. "I do _not_ look like that!"

"Yes you do," Lana said, and shoved Lola back. Lucy caught her.

"Thanks, Luce..."

She let her drop. "Lincoln already agreed to listen to my poem. You two had no _right..."_

Someone cleared their throat, and they all looked down the hall. Lisa was standing in front of her room. "I knew this was coming," she said, "but I anticipated it happening further down the road."

"What are you talking about, Frankenstein?" Lola asked, putting her hands on her hips.

Lisa sighed. "I would like all of you to come inside. I have something to say. A proposal, if you will."

"Whatever," Lola said, "just make it snappy."

Inside Lisa's room, Lisa closed the door and crossed to her desk. She sat in her computer chair and faced her sisters, her fingers tented.

"What's this about?" Lana asked.

For a moment Lisa did not reply. "It is about the way the three of you have been lusting after Lincoln."

Lola looked stricken. Lana looked away. Lucy looked...well...like Lucy. "I have _not_ been lusting after my own brother," Lola challenged, "you're sick and gross and disgusting."

"Yes, you have been," Lisa said. "Need I bring up the video of you strutting around the living room dressed like a Backpage prostitute?"

" _I'm not a prostitute!"_

"I never said you were, but you've certainly been dressing like one." She nodded to Lola's attire. "What's this you're wearing now? Are you planning a trip to the beach?"

Lola opened her mouth, but shut it again. No, she was not. She was planning on showing off her body to her brother and _maybe_ letting him get a flash of something more. And _maaaaybe,_ if he didn't mind, she would take _everything_ off for him. The thought of standing completely naked before him excited her to no end.

Lisa turned to Lana. "I've observed you on _many_ occasions looking at Lincoln the way a hungry dog would look at a side of beef."

Lana hung her head. There was no sense in denying it. She _did_ lust for Lincoln.

"And you, Lucy," Lisa started, "you and I both know what you do to yourself at night."

Lucy blushed furiously and bowed her head. Every night before she fell asleep, she would slip her hand up her nightdress and touch herself until she came. And each time she did it, she thought of Lincoln.

"I knew that conflict would eventually arise, given that the three of you are interested in the same boy. As I said before, I didn't think it would happen _quite_ this soon, but..." here she shrugged... "I've been wrong before."

Lola sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. "Fine, we all...like Lincoln...now what?"

"Now we – I mean you, though I'm interested in him as well, but for a slightly different reason –share."

"Share?" Lucy asked.

"Yes, share."

Lana, Lola, and Lucy looked at each other. "I don't know how I feel about that," Lucy said.

Lisa spread her hands. "He's our brother. Lucy...does it upset you when he hugs Luan? Or gives Lynn a high-five?"

"Well, no, but..."

Lisa held up her hand. "There you go. None of you, as sisters, resents the fact that he loves his _other_ sisters, correct? This is no different. He'll simply love the three of you in a _different_ way."

Lana looked thoughtful. "Alright, but what if he doesn't want us? He doesn't seem interested."

"I bet if I was Ace Savvy he'd look at me," Lola mused.

"I've already given that matter thought," Lisa said. She reached into a desk drawer and brought out a glass perfume bottle. "This is a pheromonal stimulant. Simply spritz it on like traditional perfume and it will influence the chemistry of Lincoln's brain, making him more...receptive."

Lola raised one eyebrow.

Lana cocked her head.

Lisa sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. The hardest thing in the world, she had discovered, was explaining something so elementary. "When you smell food, you get hungry, correct?"

"I guess," Lola said.

"Yeah, unless it's sucky food," Lana added.

"I like food," Lucy said.

"When Lincoln smells this, it will make him...hungry."

"We don't want him to get hungry, Lise," Lana said. "We want him to..."

 _"Goddamn it, it'll make him aroused!"_

"Oh," Lana said, looking down at her feet, chastised.

Lisa took a deep breath. "Now we need to hammer out a schedule of sorts so that you three bumbling fools aren't stepping on each other's toes."

"Hey," Lucy said flatly.

"I am _not_ a fool," Lola said.

Lisa held up her hand. "The schedule...someone needs to go first, then someone needs to go second, then someone needs to go last. Who would like to go first?"

"Me," Lucy said.

"No, _I_ want to go first!" Lola said.

" _I'm_ going first. You two can sit and spin."

Lisa sighed again. "Apparently _I_ will have to choose." She scanned her sisters' faces. Each one put on a smile that said _pick me, pick me!_ Lisa stroked her chin, then realized it didn't matter. "Lola, Lana, Lucy."

"Yes!" Lola cried, pumping one fist. Lana rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. Lucy sagged her shoulders. "Sigh," she said.

"Here," Lisa said, handing Lola the perfume bottle. "Since Lana and Lucy are no doubt eager to have their turn, the schedule will be Lola today, Lana tomorrow, and Lucy Friday. Lola, one spritz of that chemical will be enough. Apply it and hand it back, please."

Smirking, Lola sprayed herself then gave the bottle back, moving with an excited bounce. "Alright," Lisa said, sitting back and crossing her legs. "Go get him."


	3. The Touch of His Eyes

**I didn't age the younger ones up because I decided it was time to go all the way down the rabbit hole. Just wait until Lilly and Lincoln get together...that scene is** _ **hot**_ **. (I'm joking, he doesn't get with Lilly...I'm not** _ **that**_ **sick).**

* * *

 _What is it with them?_ Lincoln asked himself as he shook his thing over the toilet, then tucked in back into his jeans. They'd _all_ been acting weird lately, Lola especially, though sometimes he caught Lana looking at him like she wanted to rip his throat out. She was turning into another Lynn. And Lucy...he thought it was strange when she smiled in the living room a few minutes ago, but come to think of it, she'd been smiling a lot lately. And getting up in his personal space when he was trying to sit on the couch. Just the other day she shoved up next to him, and he was trapped between the arm and the goth. What, did they get into Luna's drug stash or something? Sheesh.

 _Back into the fray,_ he thought as he washed his hands. He expected his sisters to be clustered at the door when he opened it, but surprisingly the hall stood empty. Hmmm. Quiet. _Too_ quiet. He hunched his shoulders and threw up his hands in a karate pose. He jumped over the threshold and spun left, then right: No annoying little sisters waited to pounce him from the wings. He crept to his door, expecting to be assailed at any moment, but he reached his room in peace. Guess they found someone else to bug.

He closed his door, went over to his bed, and plopped down with a contented sigh. Alright, what's on the docket for today? A comic book? A video game? Looking at boobies on his phone? Speaking of phone, he vaguely remembered feeling it buzz in his pocket after Lana slapped him. He fished it out and opened it.

A text.

From Ronnie Anne.

 _What's ur problem?_

Lincoln started to text back, but stopped. No. She should know damn well what his problem was. She was _constantly_ doing shit like this to him. Picking on him, making fun of him, posting shit online like that stupid 'remix' video of him falling down. Do you do that to someone you like? He sure as shit wouldn't.

Whatever. He closed out of his phone and sat it on his nightstand. He opened the drawer and pulled out an Ace Savvy comic. You know, when it's been a long, hard day, Ace Savvy is _always_ there for you. Ace Savvy doesn't post embarrassing videos of you online and laugh in your face about it... _then_ get mad when you take exception. Nope. Ace Savvy is a real bro.

Like Clyde. Clyde was a real bro. Not for the first time, Lincoln kind of wished he was gay, because if he was into dudes, he'd totally date Clyde. Unfortunately, Lincoln was _not_ into guys. He liked girls. Like Ronnie Anne. Only Ronnie Anne was an asshole.

She was _beautiful,_ though.

Lincoln drew an achy sigh. He _really_ wished things were different between them, because he wanted nothing more than to be with her. Yeah, it was mushy, but sometimes he just wanted to hold her hand and look into her dark eyes. That's all. Not sex, not heavy petting (Lincoln still wasn't exactly sure what that was...did people _literally_ pet each other's genitals like they would a small, furry animal?), just holding hands and looking at each other. Oh, and cuddling. That was something he thought about often...sitting on the couch with his arm around her shoulders and her head resting against his chest. That thought brought a dreamy smile to his face.

That was not Ronnie Anne Santiago, though. She'd rather laugh at him and give him a wedige. Was...was that her way of flirting with him? His sisters did say if a girl picked on you that meant she liked you, but you'd think they would eventually get past that. A relationship has to grow, right? It can't just be someone punching someone else in the arm until one of them dies, and that's what Ronnie wanted.

 _Why?_ he asked himself miserably.

Because that's just how it is, especially when you're a nice guy. Nice guys finish last. That was true, wasn't it? Didn't _he_ always finish last?

Maybe not _all_ the time, but more times than he liked.

 _Just my lot in life_.

He opened the comic book...and someone knocked on the door. Aw, Jesus. He dropped the comic onto his face, where it formed a little tent, and lifted his hands. "Come in!" Why not?

The door opened. "Oh, Lincy," Lola said in a singsong voice.

And here I thought I was free and clear. He pushed the comic off his face and sat up. She was wearing her normal attire: A pink dress, pink gloves, and tiara.

"What do you want, Lola?" Lincoln asked.

"Oh, just to spend a little time with you," she said, a mischievous hilt to her voice. She crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. Her grin widened, and Lincoln's eyes narrowed.

"Alright. Well...here we are."

Even as he spoke, a strange feeling descended over him. It started as a slight tingle in his brain, then spread to his chest and stomach. It was similar to the feeling you get when you drink something hot. He blinked as it worked its way into his loins, then slowly faded. What the fuck?

Lola grinned at him, her big, bright eyes half-lidded. He caught a whiff of her perfume, and his stomach fluttered.

"How do you feel, Lincy?" she asked, scooting closer and laying one gloved hand on his leg. That one touch sent an electric shock through his body, and he shuddered.

"Uh...I don't know."

She cocked her head cutely. "Do you...feel up to watching me model a few outfits?" She walked her fingers up his leg. Their eyes locked. She was getting closer to his center. His brain screamed at him to make her stop, but his body was responding, his member stirring.

 _Jesus God, this is gross!_

He pulled his leg away. When he spoke, his throat was tight. "Uh...yeah, sure."

Didn't he mean to say no?

Maybe, but that's not what he _wanted_ to say.

"Great," she said. As she drew her hand away, it brushed his crotch, and his penis twitched. "Sorry, Linc," she said.

Her sultry smile and half-lidded eyes told him that she wasn't. He swallowed with an audible click. "I-It's okay."

"Good," she said. She jumped up and started for the door. His eyes fell to her butt, which wiggled under the loose fabric of her dress. When she stopped, it clung to her, revealing the outline of her bottom. She looked over her shoulder and smirked. "Come on."

Lincoln nodded, and was powerless to do anything but stand and follow. _What's happening here, Linc?_ He asked himself. _I don't know, but I like it_.

In her room, Lincoln closed the door and put his hand to his head. His skin was fevered. The sight of her bed, covered in soft, pink sheets, made his stomach flutter. Was it just him, or was the smell of her perfume everywhere?

"Sit down, Lincy-poo," she said over her shoulder. She was at the closet now, going through a dozen outfits.

"W-Where?" Lincoln asked.

"Where do you think? My bed, silly."

Lincoln glanced at her bed. It looked soft, warm. The blankets would smell like her. Her pillow would smell like her hair.

Why did he feel so...strange?

"Sit," Lola urged.

Shaking his head, he crawled onto her bed and rested his back against the wall. He crossed his arms across his chest and took a deep breath.

"I've been wanting you to pay attention to me for _so_ long, Lincy," she said. She took down a hanger and disappeared into the closet. "I love it when you look at me."

Lincoln's stomach churned. "I love looking at you," he blurted, and clamped his hand over his mouth. Why did he say that?

Well...it was true. She was beautiful.

"Really?" she asked from the closet. Her dress came flying out and landed in a heap on the floor. Lincoln watched it, his eyes wide. A pair of white panties followed. She was...she was naked!

He found himself shifting to one side in an attempt to catch a glimpse of her through the crack.

"Y-Yeah," he said.

"That makes me _so_ happy, Lincy," she said. She stepped out. She was wearing a simple white sun dress.

"How do I look?" she asked, putting one hand on her hip.

It was a little...bland, compared to what he'd expected, but she was radiant nevertheless . "Beautiful," he said, and licked his lips. She giggled, a blush touching her cheeks. She ducked her head and turned.

"I'm glad you think so. Your opinion means a lot to me."

She went behind the door again, and Lincoln squirmed against the erection growing in his pants. This wasn't right...but he didn't care.

A minute later, she appeared, this time wearing a sleeveless pink dress that stopped well above her knees. A thick leather belt with a giant circular buckle was wrapped around her hips. Lincoln imagined unbuckling that belt and stripping it away.

Lola smiled as her brother's eyes crept up and down her body. She could _feel_ them: Every nerve ending tingled, and she felt damp between her legs. She had his complete and undivided attention, and it was turning her on. "What do you think?"

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, leaning slightly forward. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down. Lola blushed. Her entire body was warm.

"Thank you, Lincoln," she said. She turned and looked over her shoulder; she was going to give him a show. Without breaking eye contact, she undid her belt and whipped it aside, letting it fall to the floor. Next, she unbuttoned the front of the dress and slid it down her shoulders, the fabric scraping against her skin and sending tendrils of pleasure racing to her stomach. Lincoln's eyes were as wide as saucers.

She winked as the dress slipped farther down, slowly revealing more of her soft, milky flesh. There was a mole on her shoulder. It was cute. And kissable. Lincoln saw himself rubbing his lips against it and smelling her skin.

That was it. His penis swelled with blood and jerked against his pants.

The dress came down even more. He saw the indent of her spine, a valley running from her neck down. Her shoulder blades flexed. He swallowed again. The suspense was killing him, building and building like steam in an engine. Finally, Lola's dress dipped just low enough that he could see the dimples at the base of her spine and the very top of her cleft.

She disappeared into the closet, and Lincoln released a breath he didn't even know he was holding. His heart was pounding so hard he feared – actually feared – that it would rupture.

"Did you like that?" she asked.

"A lot," he said honestly.

"Good," she said. She came out of the closet again. This time she was wearing a thin night dress with a fringed hem. It was pink with a little ribbon in the middle of the chest. She smiled seductively, and started walking toward him, carefully putting one bare foot in front of the other, her hips rocking back and forth. His mouth went dry and his heartbeat increased. He tried to look away, but he was transfixed. A part of him, a very _small_ part, wanted her to go away, because she was his sister and this was wrong. Another part, a much larger part, wanted her to sit in his lap, wanted her to lean into him and touch her soft, burning lips to his...just one faint, fleeting touch. That's all I need.

She sensed his desperation, and her smile widened. She crawled onto the bed and slunk over him, her arms on either side of his legs. Her eyes never left his as she lifted up and settled onto his right leg, her knees planted on both sides like he was a horse and she a sexy, seductive, rider. Heat burned against his thigh, and he went lightheaded when he realized she was not wearing any underwear.

"You know something, Lincy?" she asked, touching his flushed cheek with one hand. His penis throbbed.

"What?" he croaked.

"I like it when you look at me."

She laid her free hand on his inner thigh, dangerously close to his crotch.

"I want to be pretty for _you_ , Lincoln."

Her hand slid up his thigh. His breath caught in his throat and his heart slammed.

She leaned closer. Her breath was hot against his lips. "And _only_ you."

Her fingers danced across his bulge, and he drew a hissing breath, his hands unconsciously gripping the covers. Electricity radiated out from his core and crackled through him.

She rubbed herself against his leg as she cupped and squeezed his crotch. He gyrated his hips against her hand without his brain telling him too: His body simply reacted.

He gazed into her eyes as she rolled her hips back and forth, her eyelids fluttering slightly. She rubbed him faster, her fingers tracing his outline, brushing against his sensitive head, and caressing his rapidly tightening sack. He reached out and laid his hands on her shoulders, wanting, _needing_ to touch her, to feel her warm, cat-like boy. She massaged his pulsating shaft with her fingers. He was leaking. He could _smell_ himself: A wild, animal-like scent. He imagined he could smell her too, and that filled him with mindless lust. He ran his hands down her chest, over her stomach.

She let out a shivery moan as she rubbed herself faster against him. Lincoln put his hands on her hips to steady her. They looked deeply into one another's eyes. He could feel his climax building in his stomach. Lola grounded against him, panting: His leg was soaked with her, and that made him so hot. "Look at me, Lincoln, look at me," she hitched, her eyes beginning to narrow, "look at me, I love it when you look at me, look at me, watch me..."

Lincoln bared his teeth as he swelled under her hand. God, he was close, it was right there, rushing forward, coming, bursting against him. When she gasped and started to shake, he lost control and filled his underwear, long ropes of hot cum pumping against the fabric and splattering his groin. He cried out, and Lola buried her face in the crook of his neck. He wrapped his arms around her as they rode out their orgasm together, shaking and quivering against each other.

For a long time afterward, they remained like that, their hearts pounding in time and their breaths coming in ragged gasps. Lincoln kissed her neck and drew a deep smell of her clean, warm scent.

"That was simply _amazing,_ " she panted, kissing his neck back.

"Yes it was."

She leaned back and looked at him. "We'll have to do this again sometime."

Lincoln licked his dry lips and grinned. "Any time."


	4. In Front of His Sister

**STR2D3PO: I know. I just like the name WWF better, and I thought it would be mildly...amusing? Ironic? For an eleven-year-old boy to use WWF instead of WWE in 2017.**

 **Guest: That Chris Hansen comment made me laugh out loud. I might use that idea for a oneshot.**

* * *

Lisa Loud watched the monitor as Lola ground herself against Lincoln's leg, her hand rubbing his crotch faster and faster. Lisa adjusted her glasses and leaned forward, her eyes wide and her mouth slack.

" _Look at me, Lincoln, look at_ _me, look at me, I love it when you look at me, look at me, watch me."_

Lola gasped and began to quake. Lincoln threw his head back and cried out. She flopped forward and he wrapped his arms around her.

Fascinating.

Still, between her legs, Lisa felt nothing. She sighed. She had _hoped_ that watching her brother and sister would inspire at least a faint flutter of sexual desire, but she honestly didn't expect it to. She leaned back in her chair, crossed her legs, and folded her arms. "I would like to _enjoy_ my first time," she said aloud. At this rate, she would be largely indifferent, except perhaps toward the pain of her hymen rupturing. Otherwise, the experience would be cold and mechanical, and though she was no expert on sex, even she realized that that defeated the purpose of recreational intercourse.

On screen, Lola slipped off of Lincoln's lap and sat next to him. A dark patch had formed where she sat. Lisa wondered if she wore underwear or not. The crotch of Lincoln's jeans was still tented and twitching. After a moment of hand holding, Lincoln kissed Lola on the forehead and got up. Lisa heard him several minutes later entering the bathroom, most likely to clean himself up. On the screen, Lola slipped out of her nightgown and pulled her pink dress back on. Next, came the gloves, then, finally, she settled her tiara on top of her blonde head. She looked at herself in the mirror, nodded, then left the room.

When she came into Lisa's room, Lisa turned in her chair. "How was it?" Lisa asked.

"A _mazing_ ," Lola replied dreamily. She hugged herself and leaned against the door. "He looked at me the _whole_ time."

"Indeed," Lisa said, making mental note of her older sister's exhibitionistic tendencies. "Are you satisfied?"

 _"Very."_

"Good."

In the bathroom, Lincoln slipped his underwear off and let them pool around his ankles. The light shimmered on the steely surface of his load, and for a moment he simply stared at it, feeling a mixture of shame and...was that nirvana? _Call me Kurt Cobain_ , he thought with a grin.

He turned the shower on and stepped in, the hot water cascading over him. He thought back to what just happened, Lola's sweet face filling his mind, his flaccid penis twitching at the memory of her soft touch. _God, what did I do?_

Well...he had a great time, that's what he did.

He didn't hear the door creak open over the roar of the shower, didn't know he was no alone until Lucy spoke, and he started, nearly slipping. "Hey, Lincoln."

 _I am literally not safe anywhere from Spooky McSpookface._ He opened the shower curtain just enough to poke his head out. Lucy was sitting on the closed toilet lid, a piece of paper clutched in her hands. She glanced at him, then quickly away, a blossom of crimson touching her cheeks. Lincoln felt himself stir. He took a deep breath. _Slow your roll, Casanova_ , he thought, and for some reason that struck him as funny, and he had to fight back laughter.

"What's up?" he asked.

"I, uh, I wanted you to...you said you were going to listen to my poem."

That's right. He _did_ promise to listen to her poem...before the incident in the hall and the wonderful experience with Lola. "Sure," he said. He pulled his head back into the shower and squirted a shot of body wash onto his loofa. "Read it to me."

He began washing, white soap lathering his chest and stomach.

Lucy coughed, and when she spoke, her voice was shaky. "Well, it starts...We all have darkness inside...uh..."

She sounded so nervous. Of course, her naked brother was two feet away from her, only a thin, nearly translucent shower curtain separating them. She could probably see his outline. He poked his head back out, and caught her craning her neck, as if trying to catch a glimpse of him through the gap. She turned quickly away, her hair swishing against her red face. Her hands shook and she coughed again.

 _She's...she's enjoying this! She_ wants _to see me!_

A grin spread across Lincoln's face. "What's wrong, Luce?" he asked playfully, "you look kind of...anxious."

"It's nothing," she said quickly. He drew the curtain further back, revealing his soapy chest.

"Are you sure?"

She glanced at him and paused, her mouth hanging open. "I-I-I'm fine," she stammered. Her head twitched to the side as if she was trying to look away but couldn't bring herself to. For some reason, the thought of being naked in front of her greatly excited him, and his penis twitched to life, filling with blood. Lucy snapped her mouth closed but continued staring.

"Can I see your eyes?" Lincoln heard himself ask.

"M-My eyes?"

He nodded. "I want to see your eyes."

For a moment she didn't move, then, lifting one hand to her face, she brushed back her bangs. Her eyes were a bright, crystalline blue. They locked gazes. Lincoln pushed the curtain back and stood before her, soap suds coursing down his body, his hard member pointing at her like a possessive finger. She looked down, and her eyes widened, a tiny exhalation escaping her lips. Neither moved for a long time, he enjoying showing, and her enjoying being shown.

"Do you like it?" he finally asked, his voice husky. He was so hard he could feel his load burning against his slit. He was starting to pant. He was incredibly turned on by the feeling of those beautiful blue eyes softly caressing him. _I'm such a pervert,_ he thought, but it was okay, because Lucy was a pervert too and they could be perverts together...they could touch each other, feel each other, and rub against each other until their bodies burst.

She bobbed her head up and down. "Yes," she sighed. "I like it so much."

"Do you want to touch it?"

She bobbed her head up and down. "But I can't."

"Why not?" he asked.

"It's...it's not my day."

His brow furrowed. Did she have a bad day too?

"Oh well," he said, hiding his disappointment. He rubbed his hands down his soapy body. "Your loss."

"Yes it is," she said quickly.

His own touch made his skin tighten. When he reached his dick, he took it in his hand and shifted it left and right, pangs of pleasure rippling through him. "Do you want to watch?"

She nodded again. "Yes, please."

Heart crashing, he ran his hand up and down his shaft. Lucy planted her hands on her knees and leaned forward. Lincoln was so hot he was dizzy. He stroked faster. "I'm pretending it's you," he panted.

"That's hot."

"I'm pretending you're touching me and kissing me."

"Yes," she panted.

Hot pressure gathered in his stomach like a summer storm. He threw he head back and went faster, faster, drawing his orgasm from his deepest depths for his pretty little sister to see. "Lucy," he hitched as he began to swell.

"Do it," she rasped. "Please do it."

He let go, and his seed poured out of him, shooting through the air and landing on Lucy's leg. The second blast hit the hem of her dress, the third splattered her knee, and the fourth landed on the top of her shoe. She moaned.

Lincoln leaned back against the slick wall and swallowed. His heart was slamming so hard it hurt. When he opened his eyes, he saw Lucy rubbing herself through her dress, her arm working furiously. She must have been really hot for him, because in less than a minute she was trembling. With a loud gasp, she leaned forward and jerked. "God, Lincoln," she said.

"Fun, huh?" he asked and grinned.

She nodded. "Um-hmmm."

* * *

You'd think it would be awkward seeing your sisters at the dinner table after doing...things with them. It wasn't. While the others chattered and made jokes (Luan...ugh...shut up!), Lincoln silently ate his beans and franks and snuck glances at Lucy and Lola. A tiny grin touched Lucy's face, and she looked down at her plate. She was still wearing the same clothes he came on: He looked for, and found, the wet spots where he landed. Lola winked and blew him a kiss.

For the rest of the evening, he tried to clear his mind. He basically had sex with one of his sisters and masturbated in front of another. He _knew_ how messed up that was, _knew_ that he should be sickened and ashamed of himself. But he wasn't. At all. In fact, he felt a swelling of pride.

That night, he relived the experiences in his dreams, only the one with Lucy was different. In the dream, she stripped naked and got into the shower with him. They pressed their wet bodies against one another and kissed deeply as the water pounded down on them. It was so vivid that when he woke to the first faint strands of morning light, he could taste her mouth. He smiled and rolled over, snuggling deeper into the blanket. He drifted back off, but woke again a half an hour later when his alarm went off. He slapped the OFF button and sat up. He was rock hard, his member staining against the fabric of his underwear. He slipped his hand in but stopped, an idea coming to him.

A voice in the back of his head told him he was a pervert and it was sick, but he didn't care. He got up and went into the hall. Leni, Lynn, Luan, and Luna were waiting in line for the bathroom, Lynn dancing from one foot to the other as though she had to pee, Luna's arms crossed over her chest, and Luan standing with slumped shoulders and her head tossed back. Lynn wore socks and an oversized jersey that almost reached her knees; Luan was wearing a white nightgown; Luna was wearing purple gym shorts and a black tanktop; Leni was dressed in her aquamarine gown.

Lincoln's eyes crept over them, and while he felt _something_ , he didn't want to see them, he wanted them to see _him_.

He walked up and stood behind Lynn. "Gotta go?" he asked.

Lynn turned, her lips sucked in. She nodded urgently...then her eyes flicked down. "Jesus, Linc!" she said, recoiling, "put that thing away!"

"Put what away?" Luan asked. She turned, and her jaw dropped. "I see you're already having a _hard_ day, Linc."

"What do you mean?" he asked innocently and crossed his arms.

"Like, you're gonna put someone's eye out," Leni said.

He looked down at himself. "Oh. Oops."

"You're doing this on purpose, bro," Luna said, her brows knitted, "not cool. We're your sisters."

Hot shame streaked across Lincoln's face, and he suddenly felt like a piece of shit. "It happens," Luan said, her eyes lingering on his bulge. "No big. Well...it _is_ big, but..."

"Looks like a baseball bat," Lynn said. She looked...intimidated? "I feel sorry for Ronnie Anne. You're gonna rip her in half...if you haven't already."

Lincoln blushed. Suddenly self-conscious, he covered himself with his hands. _Yeah, I should have listened to that little voice._

"At least he doesn't have to sneak over to her house at night," Luan said, "he can just stick it out the window and reach..."

The bathroom door opened and Lori came out, wiping her hair with a towel. "Alright," she said, "bathroom's..." she trailed off when her eyes opened and landed on Lincoln. "Ew, gross!"

To herself: _He's as big as Bobby...and he's only eleven! Kid must be part horse._

Blushing, Lincoln turned around and faced away from them. "There. My horrible, disgusting, totally unnatural erection is gone. Go about your morning."

He did not see the disappointment in Lynn and Luan's eyes, or the way Leni licked her lips...


	5. The Match of the Century

Another day, another lunch. Lincoln sat at his usual table and examined the contents of his tray. Pale, anemic green beans, chunky mashed potatoes, a stale roll, and a piece of meat slathered in gravy. Ugh, God. He poked it with his fork. Is that skunk meat? It's probably skunk meat. Or raccoon. It sure as shit isn't beef. Who's fault is this? Bush? Obama? Wasn't Obama's wife big on making school lunches better? If this is better, pfft. Or was it Trump? To hell with all of them. They ate steak and lobster every night. Campaign dinners where a plate cost 2,500 dollars. That food better jump off the plate and suck my dick before I eat it.

"Anyway," Clyde was saying, "it...it was pretty awesome."

All day, Clyde had a goofy smile on his face and a faraway look in his eyes. Lincoln finally asked him what was up, and listened rapt as Clyde told him: The previous afternoon, Penelope Puffenbarger overheard him talking about being "trash" at science and worrying about that Friday's test. She offered to help him study after school, and Clyde, desperate to not fail and spend the summer in school, readily accepted. They went back to his place, and before you could say periodic table, they were making out on his bed. He slipped his hand up her shirt, she slipped her hand down his pants, and...well, let's just say he and Lincoln had a similar experience.

"So...are you guys boyfriend and girlfriend now?" Lincoln asked.

As if on cue, Penelope appeared and dropped into the seat next to Clyde. She propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her upturned palm. "Hey, Clyde," she purred. Clyde spun in his seat, propped _his_ elbow on the table, and rested _his_ chin in _his_ palm. "Hey."

They were like mirror images of each other. Both with bushy hair (hers was red and his was black), thick glasses, and freckles. It was mean, but Lincoln thought she was ugly. Then again, he didn't exactly think Clyde was dead sexy either.

"Wanna hang out after school?" she asked, and her hand slipped into Clyde's.

"Sure," Clyde said, weaving his fingers through hers. "We can, uh, study."

"Ummm...biology..."

Lincoln sighed and turned away. Well, at least Clyde McBride has someone. Meanwhile...

On cue, Ronnie Anne sat down across from him. _Next time I should think about a hamburger...or a million dollars._

Neither one of those things appeared, however.

"'Sup, lame-o?" she asked.

Drinking in her beautiful face, Lincoln could almost forget that he was mad at her.

"Nothing," he said tightly, and picked up his roll. He took a bite. It tasted like a rock.

Ronnie looked up at him, her mouth opening as if she wanted to say something, but she paused when she saw Clyde and Penelope. Her brow furrowed. "Uh...what's up with them?"

Lincoln glanced over. They were holding hands and gazing deeply into each other's eyes.

"They like each other," Lincoln said simply, then, feeling a flash of meanness, he added, "see, he likes her and she actually likes him back and..." he shrugged.

Ronnie caught the inflection in his voice. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Lincoln said, opening his milk, "she likes him and she shows it in a normal way so he doesn't have to wonder if he's wasting his time day after day after day on a girl who doesn't want him."

Ronnie's eyes narrowed and she shook her head. "What are you talking about?"

She was so beautiful. He wanted her _so_ bad.

He snapped. "I'm talking about the fact that I like you and want to be your boyfriend, but I don't even know if you like me back. I _thought_ you did, but sometimes I don't even think you like me as a friend. Sometimes I think you're stringing me along for some sadistic reason and it breaks my heart because you're an angel and I want you and I'm sick of bullshit games and ambiguity and not knowing which way is up. I'd give my left nut for what Clyde has. At least he _knows._ "

He was angrier than he expected he would be; his face was flushed and his body shook. Ronnie gaped at him, her eyes wide and stupid.

"Just forget it," he said, and got up, "see you around."

In the last stall in the boy's bathroom, Lincoln sat on the toilet, propped his elbows on his knees, and rested his face in his hands. His heart was aching and his stomach was tight. At least he had going home to look forward too, and that made him happy, because home is where the _heart-_ on is.

He chuckled.

He would leave the puns to Luan from now on.

* * *

Lana Loud passed her day in a fog, her mind constantly turning to Lincoln. Before leaving the house that morning, she took _Confederate Desire_ out of her pillow case and jammed it into her backpack. Too bad today wasn't show and tell, she thought with a toothy grin; she imagined the look on her teacher's when she whipped it out. _This is my_ favorite _book. A guy gets his leg knocked off my a cannonball, another gets a musket ball lodged in his eye and walks around like that until he gets gangrene in his head and dies, and this Confederate dude has sex with a hooker in the mud_. Would she get suspended or expelled?

At lunch, she reread her favorite scene while absently picking at her food; she folded the book in half so no one would see the cover and give her a hard time. She wondered if her face was as red as it felt, and if anyone noticed her heavy breathing.

Later, during recess, she reread it again in the shade of an oak tree, imagining her and Lincoln rolling in the mud, his body pressed close to hers, his lips brushing against her lips, his eyes gazing lustfully into hers. When she stood up, she was squishy, and a tiny wet patch had formed at her crotch. Great. It looked like she peed herself. She sighed and threw her head back. Whatever. Kids pissed and shit themselves all the time; just the other day this boy named Jason Fischer came out of the bathroom and the back of his pants were _crusted_ brown.

The second half of the day _draaaaaaaagged_ ass. Every time she looked at the clock, it was like the minute hand had gone _backwards_. Anymore of this and she'd wind up in 1955 with Doc Brown and Marty McFly.

When the final bell rang, she shot out of her seat and tore through the hall; she imagined she left burning skid marks in her wake like a DeLorean. Outside, the September afternoon was warm and golden. The leaves on the trees flanking the sidewalk were just beginning to turn colors. Lana took a deep breath and let it out.

It was a good day to roll in the mud with your brother.

Lana grinned as she hurried home, her little legs moving as fast as they could. She was so lost in thoughts of Lincoln and mud and being dirty that she didn't realize she didn't wait for her sisters until she was half way home. She came to a halting stop and looked over her shoulder. The sidewalk stood empty save for a fat kid who looked suspiciously like Chunk from _The Goonies_. Mom only allowed her, Lola, and Lisa to walk to school under the condition that they walk with at least one of their older siblings. Usually it was Lori and Leni, since the high school let out just after the elementary school. Damn. If Lola tattled to Mom like she usually did, she would get in trouble.

Oh well. She was a girl on a mission and waiting for her dumb sisters to catch up wasn't part of it.

Although she _did_ need Lisa for...actually, no she didn't. She knew where the...what did she call it...phenomenal stimulus?... was, and she knew how much to use: Just a little spritz.

Ten minutes later, she let herself into the house and pounded up the stairs. In Lisa's room, she opened the drawer, found the glass bottle, and gave herself a spray right in the chest: Some of the mist wafted into her nostrils, and she sneezed. Her nose crinkled. Ugh, this stuff smells funny. Like musk and dirty private parts.

She _liked_ it.

Putting the bottle back in the drawer, she went out into the hall and listened. She didn't hear anyone. She was still alone. Great. Time to put her plan into action.

In the backyard, she uncoiled the garden hose and turned the knob: Lukewarm water flowed out of the metal tip and spread across a patch of dirt, making mud, beautiful, beautiful mud. She carried the hose around the back of the shed where there was a wide dirt patch. A leafy bush of some kind grew up along the fence and continued for a good three feet above the top, which would prevent any perverted Wilsons from looking over and watching her and Lincoln...ahem...wrestle. _Golly gee, Tim, talk about_ tool _time!_

Wait a minute. That didn't sound like Wilson at all...it sounded like Gomer Pyle. She shrugged. Oh well.

She aimed the hose at the dirt and watched as the stream splattered it, turning it into mud. Watching the brown darken, giddiness rose in her stomach, and she bared her teeth. Soon...in less than twenty minutes maybe...she and Lincoln would be rolling in that gorgeous mud, their bodies sliding against one another, their hands slipping places that siblings' hands should not slip, their breaths puffing against each other's faces as...

Lana squeezed her legs together and shivered. Aw, man, she was getting really turned on. If she kept this up she'd blow her top the moment Lincoln _looked_ at her. _Uh...Lana...why is your face red, and why are you shaking and screaming "God yes!"?"_

As she waved the hose back and forth, making sure to hit every little dry spot she could find, her thoughts turned to the previous afternoon, when Lucy came out of the bathroom while Linc was showering, her face blushing red and her head bowed. When Lana saw her, her eyes narrowed. "It's not your day," she growled.

"I know," Lucy said, "we didn't do anything."

Lana spotted the stains on her dress, and the whitish glob on the top of her shoe. Her heart clutched. Was that...? She grinned devilishly and nodded. "Oh, and what's that, Monica Lewinsky?"

"It's not like that."

Lana crossed her arms. "You have more semen on you than a battleship."

"Shut up," Lucy said, and brushed past her.

She couldn't blame Lucy for being eager, but you don't take someone else's place in line. It's rude and that's how you wind up dining on knuckle sandwiches.

When the mud was nice and thick, she carried the hose back over to the porch, cut the water, and rolled it up. She went in through the back door, and found Lincoln rummaging in the fridge. Her heart seized and a ripple of anxiety went through her stomach. There he is...right there...all she had to do was speak his name...and in just a couple of minutes...

"Uh, Linc?" she coughed.

"Yeah?" he asked without turning.

"I, uh, I need some help. In the backyard."

"Alright," he said, "just wait a minute."

"Okay."

She stood by the back door and waited, her hands in the pockets of her overalls. He found what he was looking for and backed up, closing the fridge with his foot. He popped open a can of Coke, and her jaw dropped. "We haven't had Coke in the house in, like, a month. Where'd you get that?"

He shrugged. "I put this one back and forgot about it."

"Very crafty," she said appreciatively.

"Thanks." He took a long drink. "Now what's up?"

His eyes were big and soulful, the corners of his mouth turned slightly up. Oh, he was so _cute_ , she could just pinch his cheeks off.

And do _other_ things to him.

"Come on," she said, her voice trembling, "I, uh, I'll show you."

He scrunched his lips. "Ooookay."

Outside, she led him around the side of the shed, glancing over her shoulder to make sure he was coming (don't make a pun, Lana...you're better than that...hehe). When she reached the corner of the shed, she stepped aside and gestured with her arm. He came around and stopped. "A puddle of mud?"

"No, it's a Nickelback," she said, and he looked at her strangely.

"Yeah," she said, "it's a puddle of mud." Her heart was starting to race. She stepped closer to him, and he instinctively took a step back, colliding with the shed wall. He was trapped, and something about the uncertain look in his eyes made her want him even more. "Do you know _why_ there's a puddle of mud back here, Linc-a-dink?"

"No," he said, "no, I don't."

"Because," she said, reaching out and hooking her fingers into the waistband of his jeans, "I want to wrestle with you."

He blinked. He was starting to feel strange again, like he did yesterday with Lola. He took a deep, shivery breath. "Wrestle?"

She looked up at him and nodded. "Yup. Wrestling is fun. Right?"

He lifted one shoulder. "Kind of."

She yanked the band of his pants and drew him closer. "You've never wrestled like _I_ wrestle."

"How do you wrestle?" Lincoln asked with a grin. He already had an idea.

"Strip to your underwear and I'll show you."

"My underwear?"

"Um-hm," she said, unclasping one of her overalls' straps. "You don't want to get your clothes dirty, do you?"

Lincoln licked his lips. She watched him with half-lidded eyes. "No," he said, and unzipped his jeans with trembling fingers. He was starting to stir, and casting a glance at the mud puddle, he shuddered. He imagined the feeling over it sliding coolly over his hot body. Ummm. Why did that turn him on so much?

When he kicked out of his jeans, he was hard, and Lana's eyes widened. "Whoa there, Linc," she said, " _Hard_ day?"

"Luan already used that one today."

Lana shrugged as she undid the clasp of her other strap. "I'm not a punmaster, so whatever." Her overalls fell to her ankles. Underneath she was wearing a green T-shirt and white panties with blue stripes. When Lincoln's eyes fell upon them, his stomach knotted. He could see the outline of her...uh...flower (yeah, let's go with that). Some of the fabric was pinched between her lips in a camel toe. She stripped off her cap and threw it aside. She grinned at him. "You ever mud wrestle before?"

He shook his head.

"That's okay," she said, "neither have I." She pulled her shirt up, and Lincoln's breath caught in his throat when it slipped over her head. Her small nipples were pink and hard. Girls nipples got hard when they were aroused, right? He remembered hearing that but he didn't really have the presence of mind to check Lola yesterday to see if it was true or not.

For a moment they stood there, facing each other in their underwear, neither knowing exactly what to do. "Well," she said, "go ahead."

"Uh...okay."

He went over to the edge of the mud patch and looked down at it. "You think...?"

His words cut off as Lana crashed her shoulder into the small of his back. He cried out and toppled, falling face first in cold, damp mud: It shot into his nose, into his ears, and even into his mouth. Aw, God! He tried to take a deep breath, but sucked mud into his lungs and coughed instead. Lana mounted him and slipped her forearm around his neck. She leaned back, and his head came up. "Come on, Linc," she said, "you gonna let your little sister whip your ass?"

Deprived of oxygen, Lincoln's brain began to panic. He flailed his arm back, his fingers fluttering, and found her bare leg. He grabbed hold and pulled. With a "Whoa!" she let go and fell into the mud. Capitalizing, Lincoln spun got to his knees. She was starting to sit up, but he pushed her back, and she splashed down.

Panting, his dick harder than it had ever been in his life (huh, guess I _like_ getting beaten up...you learn something new every day), he scrambled onto his sister, planting his knees in the muck and trapping her legs. She looked at him with wide eyes. Her chest was rising and falling. Lincoln sucked air. Looking down, he realized that his caged member was resting against the crease in the middle of her underwear.

She lifted two muddy hands to his chest and rubbed them over his collarbone, his nipples, and down his stomach. His muscles quivered under her touch. He grabbed a handful of mud and smeared it across her stomach. She was breathing heavier now, her eyes thrumming with desire. He pushed himself against her, and his tip caressed her middle; her eyelids fluttered and she let out a hitching breath.

"This isn't wrestling," he breathed. His heart was slamming.

"I know," she said. She lifted her head, and their lips grazed, their breaths mingling. Suddenly, she sprang, pushing him back. He landed face-up in the mud. She straddled him with a laugh. "But _this_ is."

"So is _this_ ," he said, then wrapped his arms around her small body and rolled, pinning her beneath him. He grabbed a handful of mud and wiped it over her face. She thrashed and laughed. "You're gonna suffocate me!"

He leaned in until his nose was touching hers. "Oh?"

She swallowed then nodded.

He touched her face with a trembling hand, then slid it down, touching her neck, her bare shoulder, over her rigid nipple, down the plane of her stomach. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When he reached her core, he dragged one finger down her crease, and she shook.

He was so lost in passion that he didn't realize she was kissing him until the tip of her tongue was prodding his lips. He parted them, and she entered his mouth in a clumsy fumble. He kissed her back as he slid his hips, his leaking tip rubbing faintly against the valley of her sex. She lifted her hips in unison with his. Their wet flesh glided together, slipping and sliding. Lincoln was dizzy with passion, and he thrusted harder.

Lana pulled away from the kiss and threw her head back in the mud. The only sound was the crashing of blood in his temples and the rising moan of her sighs. The friction between them grew...getting hotter...Lincoln's breath hitched and he leaned heavily against her, propping himself up on one hand.

She gyrated against him, her thighs drifting apart to give him better access. The fabric of his underwear was damp, and so was the fabric of hers; he could _feel_ the hot swell of her fleshy lips. If it weren't for their underwear, he would be knocking at her door, and something told him she would let him in gladly.

Her face was a cute shade of red and she was chewing her bottom lip. Lincoln gazed into her eyes as she swiveled her hips madly, matching each rotation of his. "Faster..." she moaned.

Lincoln slid both of his hands into her hair and went faster. Dizziness filled his head and he could feel his climax steadily building in his loins. He bowed his head and bared his teeth as his body mashed against hers, as her hips rose against his. He was extremely close; by the cloudiness in her big eyes, he could tell that she was too.

He thrusted one last time, and his seed started to spill out of him, shooting against his underwear. Lana must have felt it, because it threw her into her orgasm, and she cried sharply out as a body wide shudder tore through her. Lincoln jerked spasmodically against her several more times before rolling off and lying in the warm, squishy mud.

"That was _just_ like _Confederate Desire!_ "

He looked at her. "What?"

"A book I stole from Lucy," she said. "It's _really_ hot."

Lincoln's brow furrowed. "Lucy reads 'hot' books?"

Lana nodded. "Oh yeah. She has a whole box full of them under her bed."

Lincoln uttered a shocked laugh. "Really? You learn something new every day."

"Right? She's a total sucker for romance novels." She grinned. "But...I kind of am too. But don't tell anyone. I have a reputation to protect."

Lincoln laughed. "Your secret's safe with me."

"Thanks, Linc." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "I call first dibs on the shower..."


	6. Sibling Desire

**Guest: You heard wrong. As you yourself pointed out, The Loud House is a fictional cartoon. How can I have a vendetta against something that isn't real? I might as well have a vendetta against Count Dracula, or Elmo, or Spongebob. I jokingly stated I have a vendetta against them in Torture the Louds...because someone else accused me of the same thing. If I truly had a vendetta against them, Lincoln would have a tiny dick, his sisters would treat him like shit, and everyone would be miserable until they spontaneously combusted. Roll credits.**

* * *

Lisa turned from the computer monitor when Lana came into the room. She was wearing a fuzzy blue robe and rubbing her wet blonde hair with a crisp white towel. "There you are," Lisa said. Lisa had a camera over the back door, but she did not have one facing the space between the shed and the fence, a situation she would have to remedy. "Did you spend time with Lincoln?"

"Boy, did I!" Lana said around a big grin.

"Good," Lisa replied and turned back to the computer. "Are you satisfied?"

"Uh, _yeah_."

Lisa opened her mouth, but closed it again. She was a proud little girl. But her curiosity won out. "What...what did it _feel_ like?"

For a moment Lana didn't respond. "I don't know. I can't really describe it. I mean, we didn't go all the way or nothin'. We just...what did you call it? When you keep your underwear on?"

"The common, colloquial term is 'dry-humping,'" Lisa said.

"Yeah, that. We just...rubbed together and then...oh boy. It made my _knees_ shake."

Hm. "Really?"

"Yep. It was like my whole body was on fire, but in a good way."

 _On fire but in a good way._ Is there a good way to be on fire? None of the people Lisa had ever seen on fire seemed to be having a good time.

"It was enjoyable?"

"Very."

"When..." she faltered here. "When was the first time you felt...desire?"

For a minute Lana was quiet as she thought. "Uh...before I read _Confederate Desire_. I think. I kind of, you know, felt _something_ going on down there. Like...when you get nervous and you have butterflies in your stomach? That's kind of what it feels like."

"Interesting. That's all I needed to know."

When Lana was gone, Lisa tented her fingers and watched the multiple live feeds. Lori and Leni's room, Luan and Luna's room. She was most interested in Lucy and Lynn's feed. When Lynn came home from school, the first thing she did was slip under the covers and masturbate. At least that's how it looked: Maybe she was scratching a particularly itchy area and the relief felt so good that she felt the need to call to God, Jesus, and Lincoln in thanks.

Hm. _Another_ sister interested in Lincoln. Given the number of his sisters, the probability of one feeling some sort of...desire for him...whether romantic, sexual, or something else...was, while unlikely, not zero. But _four?_ Why? Lincoln was certainly an agreeable individual and not unattractive, but it is well-known that certain mechanisms develop within a species, or within a given population of a species, as a result of natural and sexual selection, in order to prevent breeding among related individuals in that species or population, especially kin recognition, a mechanism by which individuals identify and avoid mating with closely related conspecifics. Yet here, before her very eyes, were four girls who felt a strong sexual attraction for their own brother.

Fascinating.

Sighing, Lisa got up from her chair and went out into the hall, where she observed Lynn emerging from her room. Ah. Just the sibling I wished to see. "Lynn?"

Lynn looked at her.

"A word, please?"

Lynn sighed. "Alright, but make it quick."

In her room, Lisa shut the door and went over to her chair, where she sat. Lynn crossed her arms and fixed her with an annoyed gaze. "What is it?"

"I've noticed you're attracted to Lincoln."

Lynn's face fell, and a very faint blush touched her cheeks. "What? That's crazy! I'm not attracted to Lincoln, no way, no how, nope, not one little bit, in fact..."

"Lynn," Lisa said, "you have a _bad_ habit of rambling when you lie."

Lynn's mouth snapped shut and her shoulders sagged. She bowed her head in shame.

"If it's any consolation, you're not the only one."

Her head whipped up. "You?"

"No, not me per se. Lana, Lola, and Lucy."

Lynn blinked. "All of them?"

Lisa nodded. "Yes. Otherwise I wouldn't have said their names, now would I?"

"I guess not."

"To avoid conflict, I have instituted a schedule of sorts. Today was Lana's day to quote unquote spend time with Lincoln, and from what I hear, they both enjoyed themselves immensely."

Lynn's blush deepened. "That's, uh, nice."

"Indeed. Tomorrow is Lucy's day. I imagine, given how eager she is, her time with Lincoln will commence as soon as the clock strikes midnight, though, technically, she could have him right now if time and circumstances permitted. I ask you to please respect this schedule. I put it in place to keep anyone from stepping on anyone else's toes, as it were."

"Alright," Lynn said, rubbing the back of her neck, "yeah. Okay."

"Good," Lisa said, "that is all."

* * *

It is a rare and welcome day when a boy of eleven who has ten sisters can have time alone with the family television set. Lincoln's sisters and parents were off on little roach errands or something, which left the TV wide open. Heh. Suckers.

He sprang over the back of the couch and landed on his butt with a bounce. He snatched the remote off the end table, pointed it at the set, and pressed the ON button: A rerun of _The Walking Dead_ flickered across the screen: The Governor was standing outside the prison gates and demanding to be let in, his rag-tag army behind him. _I_ love _this episode!_ Heh. The Governor whips Rick's ass.

He sat the remote on the arm of the couch and settled in for some action. He absently picked a shred of meat leftover from dinner out of his teeth. Salisbury steak. Come to think of it, wasn't that what he had for lunch? No, that was Rocky Raccoon. Or was it Jeremiah the Bullfrog? Eh, it stank either way.

On TV, the Governor lobbed Herschel's head off with a sword, and terrible looking CGI blood spilled forth.

"Whoa."

Lincoln started and turned. Lucy was there, her arms crossed on the back of the sofa and her chin resting on one forearm. An unconscious grin touched Lincoln's lips. "Yeah, this episode's cool."

"Can I watch it with you?"

Lincoln patted the cushion next to him. Lucy came around and sat. There was scarcely an inch between his leg and hers. She rested her hands on her knees and watched the screen intently.

Watching her, Lincoln couldn't help but think back to what happened the day before. His heartbeat sped up and his loins stirred. He pulled his gaze away and looked back at the TV. A tank was smashing through a chain-link fence. What was that she said about it not being 'her day'? What did that mean? Did...?

He leapt out of his thoughts when she laid her hand on his. It was smooth and warm and dry. His heart blasted against his ribcage and he swallowed. He put his hand on top of hers, and she looked at him, her eyes hidden behind her bangs. They were like a wedding veil, he thought. It wasn't a white wedding, though, sorry, Billy. Little girls who watch their older brother masturbate and let him cum on them don't wear white. That was okay, though, because white wasn't her color anyway. Black was. And red...the scarlet on her cheeks fit her well. Would she let him...?

Only one way to find out. He removed his hand from hers and sat it on her leg. He could feel the warmth of her flesh through the thin fabric of her black and white striped leggings. She moved her hand over the top of his leg, the tips of her fingers brushing his inner thigh. He did likewise. He was starting to get hard.

Lucy coughed and looked back at the TV. "This show is pretty wicked."

" _You're_ pretty wicked," Lincoln heard himself say, and her cheeks _burned_.

"Thanks. You're wicked too."

He rubbed his hand along her inner thigh, and she shivered. Was he brave enough to go higher? Would she allow him to go higher? He grazed his fingertips up her flesh, and she did likewise. He was starting to breathe heavy.

His hand disappeared up her dress and his fingers found her burning core. She gasped and cupped his growing bulge in her hand. He looked around and didn't see anyone, but you never know when someone's going to pop up. He spotted a knitted Afghan draped across the back of the couch. He grabbed it and threw it over their laps. There, now they could touch each other in secret.

Lucy pulled her hand away, and wiggled. Lincoln cocked an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

"Pulling down my pants."

Lincoln grinned. He slipped his thumbs into his jeans and slid them down, along with his underwear: His member sprang out like a jack-in-the-box. When Lucy's hand touched his bare leg, he tensed, and so did she. Her tongue darted out of her mouth and slowly slid across her bottom lip. Lincoln touched her leg, and her flesh was like silk. She leaned into him and boldly wrapped her hand around it. He twitched and sucked a deep breath. He shoved his arm between her and the couch and ran his hand across her trembling stomach. She hooked one leg over his, spreading herself wide for him. Just a _little_ lower.

When his fingers touched her fevered lips, she hissed over clenched teeth. He traced the outline of her sex as she ran her thumb from his head to his base. His eyes rolled back in his head. How come it never felt this good when _he_ did it?

Lucy's breath hitched when he dipped his fingers into her slick crease. Her essence was like lava. Sweet, sticky lava. He rubbed her slowly, firmly, and she buried her face into his chest. Her strokes became slower, deeper, matching his rhythm. He felt a bead of precum form at his tip and begin to drip down. It touched Lucy's hand, and the added lubrication made him throb harder.

Speaking of lubrication, Lucy was producing a _lot_ of her own. His quickening fingers made a wet sound not unlike someone running in flip flops. She shifted herself to give him better access, and his middle finger slipped into her inky well. She let out a long _ahhhhh_ and bit his shirt; her saliva bled through, warm against his skin, and that made him even hotter. Much more and he'd spontaneously combust.

She squeezed and stroked faster, spreading his own sticky oil up and down his length. Okay, okay, she does this _much_ better than I do. Damn, oh, fuck, shit. He swirled his finger inside of her; she was like wet satin. _Tight_ wet satin. Her muscles clenched against him, and she moaned, her hips beginning to rock.

"Are you close?" he asked.

"Yes," she gasped, "so close."

He increased his speed.

"God, Lincoln, I'm going to cum, I'm going to –" she jerked against his hand, the tiny noises escaping her throat pushing him over the edge. He flopped his head against the back of the couch and gave into his orgasm. The Afghan took most of it, but some oozed onto Lucy's hand.

He buried his face in her warm, clean smelling hair and twitched as aftershocks quaked through his body.

"That was so good," she moaned.

"You're telling me."

"You know what will be even better?"

"What?"

"When we have sex."

Lincoln smiled into his sister's hair. "Only one way to find out."

* * *

Lana was sitting on her bed, her back against the wall and her legs splayed out in front of her. She was rereading her favorite scene in _Confederate Desire_ : The reb doing the hooker in the mud. And to think, she was just doing that with Lincoln in the backyard. Well...he didn't actually put it in her, but he didn't have to: She was _more_ than happy with rubbing.

"So," Lola said, "how do you like my new dress?"

Lana flipped the page. "It's nice."

"You're not even looking."

Lana sighed and glanced up. Lola was standing in the closet threshold, her hands on her hips and her butt stuck out. She was wearing a sparkly red dress and a huge, gap-tooth smile. The sunlight caught her dress, and it shimmered. "You look like Gary Glitter," Lana said.

Lola tense, her hands fisting. "No, I don't!"

"Are you the leader of the gang?"

"No!"

"What kind of stuff's on your laptop?"

 _"I'm not Gary Glitter!"_

"Coulda fooled me."

Lola seethed. "You are positively insufferable sometimes."

Lana focused back on her book.

"But you're beautiful."

Lana looked back up, her brow furrowed. Lola winked, and slipped the Gary Glitter dress over her shoulders. "Uh, what are you...?"

Her words died when the dress dropped to the floor, revealing her creamy body: Small, pert nipples, Y-shaped sex, just the very tip of her slit showing. Lana's eyes went wide and her jaw fell slack.

Lola giggled. "Do you like?" She put her hands on her hips.

Lana didn't know what to say. Her stomach fluttered and her heart raced. Yes, actually, she kind of did.

"Am I beautiful?"

Lana licked her lips. They were suddenly very dry. Drier than British humor, even. She nodded.

"Thank you," Lola said. She disappeared into the closet, and Lana was momentarily released from her sister's grasp. You're not supposed to like girls if you're a girl...but her body _was_ beautiful.

When Lola returned, she was wearing nothing but pink stockings and her tiara. "How about this?"

Lana sat up straight. She felt something on her chin. Was...was she _drooling?_ Yes, yes she was. She was also imagining what her sister's body would feel like under her hands, what noises she would make if she put her finger into...

"You put on that perfume, didn't you?" Lana asked sharply.

"What _ever_ are you talking about, Lana?" Lola asked innocently.

She took a step forward and Lana's heart sputtered. She looked like a princess. A naughty, mischievous princess with a crooked smile and lust-pooled eyes. And you know what? Lana found herself wanting to be her lady-in-waiting (lady-in- _mating..._ ha, suck on _that,_ Luan!)...worshipping her body, trailing kisses between her breasts, along her stomach, lower...

Lola crept onto the bed and sat in Lana's lap. Her chest was inches away from Lana's face...so close she could lean forward and touch it with her tongue...

"Do you want to play a game?" Lola asked.

"W-What kind of game?"

"A _sex_ game."

Lana nodded. "Yes."

"Lay back."

Lana obeyed her princess's command and laid on her back. Lola undid the straps of Lana's overalls and pulled them down, over her feet. Next, she hooked her fingers into Lana's underwear and pulled _those_ down as well. Lana didn't realize how hot she was between her legs until the cold air touched her, and she winced. Grinning, Lola planted an arm on either side of her sister and leaned in until the tips of their noses were almost touching. All Lana could do was look up at her; she was completely under her spell. "This is called The Orgasm Game," Lola said, grinding her hot, dripping crotch against Lana's. Lana's body shook. "The first one to cum loses."

Lola lifted up and slid herself against Lana. Hot honey smeared her trembling lips and she closed her eyes.

"Do you think you're up to it?"

Lola moved her hips.

"I don't know," Lana gasped honestly.

Lola thrusted. "Oh?"

Lana nodded.

"You're going to cum first?"

"Probably – ahhh!"

Lola worked her hips faster, their wet lips gliding together and creating friction – heady, burning, _amazing_ friction. "I, oh, just, ah, might, ummmmm...let you win," Lola said. "If you – yes – look at me."

Lana opened her eyes. Her sister's face was red, her bottom lip sucked in and her eyes brimming with lust. "Am I beautiful?"

"Yes," Lana said, "so beautiful."

Lola leaned in and they kissed, their tongues melding wetly. They rocked in time, and when they shared their orgasm, Lola gasped into Lana's mouth, her tiny body bucking and rubbing even harder. Lana's toes curled as her brain scrambled. This one was more powerful than the one she had with Lincoln, sharper, deeper, hotter.

"That's _one_ way to _cum_ together as sisters," Lana said when it was over.

Lola kissed Lana's collarbone. "You're cute...but you suck at jokes."

* * *

Lynn Loud squirmed in the armchair facing the couch, each movement of her hips sending pangs of lust into her burning girlhood. Her erect nipples brushed against the fabric of her sports bra, and a shiver raced down her spine. Ahhhhh. Damn it. This _sucks_. Lincoln sat on the couch, his legs kicked up onto the coffee table. Lucy sat on the opposite side, her face a cute shade of pink and head bowed slightly down.

Ever since seeing Lincoln's...uh... _hard, hot boner_ that morning, Lynn had thought of little else. Ummm, the way it strained against his briefs, the cotton clinging to it like a second skin. It looked so...full...so touchable. She imagined it would be warm and heavy in her hand, like a water balloon...only it would be filled with something _else_ , something hot, gooey, and...ummmm...she crossed her legs and pressed her hands against her crotch. Her underwear was damp; it clung wetly to her outer lips. What would it feel like it she were to open her legs and let Lincoln lick her there? She could see him now, kneeling between her thighs and lapping her nectar like a thirsty kitten, his little cowlick bobbing.

Okay, okay, okay, I'm gonna melt if I keep this up. She stood on shaky knees and went into the kitchen, where she opened the fridge. Let's see. A snack. Yeah. That'll get my mind off Lincoln. She scanned the shelves but didn't see anything she liked. Damn thing's emptier than Leni's head.

Lynn grinned at her mean joke. Sorry, Leni. I love ya.

She went over to the pantry, opened the door, and looked. Fine, a sports bar. She grabbed one, ripped the wrapper off, and stuck the edge into her mouth, but didn't bite down. Why? Well...she wanted to savor it...or maybe she wanted to pretend it was Lincoln's penis. One of the two. It's not weird to savor a tasty sports bar by wrapping your lips around it and bobbing back and forth, right? A smile touched her freckled face as she swirled her tongue around the edge. Salty. Just like she imagined Lincoln's jizz would be.

She pushed the bar into her mouth, gagging slightly as it touched the back of her throat. She pulled it back out slowly, running the tip of her tongue along its underside and grazing the top slightly with her teeth.

"How's that sports bar _going down_?"

Lynn's eyes flew open and she choked. Luan was standing in the threshold between the kitchen and the living room, her arms crossed and an impish smile dancing merrily across her lips. One of her eyebrows was raised.

Thinking fast, Lynn bit off a huge chunk and started chewing. "Good," she said, spraying nuts and granola. She held up a thumb.

Luna strutted forward, and Lynn chewed faster. When she was close enough that Lynn could smell her hair, she leaned in and smiled. "I bet it was good for the sports bar, too."

Lynn choked, and Luan brushed past her. Lynn turned and watched as she opened the pantry door. She scanned the shelves much as Lynn had a few moments ago. "Ah," she said, "Triscuts." She stood on her tippy-toes and reached, the hem of her skirt lifting and revealing the swell of her thigh. Lynn gasped, and a nut or something went down the wrong tube: She coughed.

 _Why am I such a horn dog today?_ She asked herself as she went back into the living room. Lincoln glanced at her, and her throbbing mound quivered. Jesus, Linc, you're gonna make me cum with just a look.

Just imagine what he could do with that hot, pulsing, meaty _tool._ She said it looked like a baseball bat. Well, she would be the ball. Yep. Hit me, Linc. She would get on her knees and thrust her butt into the air and let him fuck her like she was a bitch in heat. She would be entirely at his mercy, powerless, all the control in _his_ hands, and boy, that made her _wet_. Tie me up, blindfold me, cuff my hands in the front and fuck me in the back, bring me down a few pegs, Linc. Make me your slut. Turn big bad Lynn Loud into a quaking pool of jelly...

Lynn raked a hand through her thick chestnut hair. _I have it_ bad.

But she didn't care. She _liked_ having it bad. She _liked_ the hot lead feeling in her stomach. She _liked_ feeling like an orgasm was pressing against her dripping hole...like all it needed was a little nudge to come screaming out of her. What would Lincoln do if she stood in front of him and rubbed her thighs together until she cried out and came?

She hoped he would lay her on the floor, slide down her shorts, and fuck her right there in front of everyone. _That_ excited the _shit_ out of her.

Alright, fuck this, I gotta rub one out.


	7. All the Way

In her room, Lisa Loud leaned forward and stared as, on the monitor, Leni brushed her hair in front of her vanity. She was humming, but occasionally she would sing.

" _Lincy...makes me feel kinky...I wanna touch his dinky..."_

Christ on a cracker, another one?

Hm. Something wasn't right here.

That would have to wait, though; she was on the verge of a breakthrough. She turned back to the feed of Lola and Lana's room. They were at it again, Lana on top this time. Lisa's loins tingled and her stomach knotted. She felt flush, as though she were running a fever, and her breathing was short. So _this_ is what sexual desire feels like. Lana was right, it _was_ comparable to being on fire, but far, far more pleasant.

 _Am I a lesbian?_

She stroked her chin. She didn't know. Possibly.

She would watch Lincoln and Lucy tonight, and decide then...

* * *

Lincoln Loud showered, dressed in his pajamas, and brushed his teeth, his mind on his younger sister. It was after eleven, and the Loud house was winding down for the day. In an hour, give or take, she would come to him. An image of her beneath him, naked and panting, flashed across his mind, and his loins began to stir. Jeez, how many boners can a guy get in one day?

In bed, he opened a comic book and tried to lose himself to Ace Savvy and his card-based adventures, but Lucy dominated his thoughts. Once she stepped through that door, he would have her all to himself for a little while, and he intended to savor her body, to touch and kiss and caress every curve, nook, swell, and plane. By the time he reached the end of the comic, he was so hard it hurt, and his flesh was hot to the touch. He sat the book aside and laced his hands behind his head. What would it feel like to enter her? The movie said it was like warm apple pie. Lincoln could imagine what that was like, but he didn't really know, since unlike Jason Biggs, he never fucked a dessert.

He was starting to drift on a fuzzy tide of sleep when the door opened. He snapped awake and lifted his head. Lucy shut the door behind her and turned, a small smile on her lips. She was wearing a long black T-shirt and a short pair of blue gym shorts. She leaned against the door and put her hands behind her back, her smile widening. Lincoln's heart beat faster, and he smiled back.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," he replied. "You look nice."

"Thank you," she said, blushing. "You look pretty good too."

Lincoln glanced down. At one point he became so hot under the blankets that he pulled them down; his erection jutted up, constricted by his underwear. You know, why don't I get a little more...comfortable? He jammed his thumbs into them and lifted his hips. They came down, and he came free, _boooooooiiiiiing_. Lucy licked her lips as he kicked the underwear off of his ankle; they landed on the floor in a heap.

"Ah, that's better."

"Yes it is," Lucy said. For a moment she simply studied him, heat rising in her stomach, then she pushed away from the door and came over. She knelt on the bed and watched her brother's beautiful, love-filled eyes.

She hooked one leg over his and mounted him, laying her hands on his rippling chest. He put a hand to her face and brushed aside her bangs. Their eyes locked. Without her hair protecting the windows of her soul, she felt naked, exposed, her spirit laid bare for him to see, but that was okay, because she _wanted_ him to see, she _wanted_ to be naked before him...in mind, body, _and_ soul.

"You have the most beautiful eyes," he whispered, and her heart swelled.

"So do you."

"And the most beautiful lips..."

They leaned into each other, his bare manhood rubbing along the inseam of her shorts and making her dizzy. Their lips met, and their tongues touched. His sweet breath filled her mouth. She took his face in her hands and deepened the kiss, flicking her tongue across the top of his and exploring him, tasting him, drinking him. Her heart crashed against his chest, and his heart crashed against her chest. He slipped his arm around her and laid his hand on the small of her back. He rubbed lazily up and down and they kissed, from her shoulder blades down to her bottom, his heat seeping through and filling her body.

She pulled away and looked into his eyes. "You're so beautiful, Lincoln," she said, and licked his lips, "so good and kind and amazing,"

His kissed her and pulled her flat against him. Her body melted into his. He rubbed against her scared juncture, and she shuddered. When he slipped his hand down the back of her shorts and touched her bare bottom, goosebumps raced up and down her back. Without breaking the kiss, she reached down, gripped the waistband of her shorts, and started to pull them down. Lincoln put his hands on hers and helped, their tongues thrashing in urgent copulation.

She slipped one foot out of her shorts and used her big toe to pull them off the other. His tip pressed against her lips, just above her passage, inches away from spearing her and claiming her virginity.

Lincoln's hands were all over her, running up her sides and across her chest. She pulled back, pulled her shirt over her head, and threw it aside. They were both completely naked now, their bodies revealed to one another as they had never been revealed to anyone else. She shifted up and down, loving the way he felt as he slid through her valley.

He put his hand on her arm and shifted his hips, indicating he wanted to change positions. She slid off of him and lay back against his pillow. He scooted down, and put his hands on her foot. Slowly, he ran them up her calf, over her knee, along the swell of her inner thigh. She twitched under his touch, her loins pooling with moisture. His fingers danced over her quivering pubic mound and then her stomach then her chest and...ahhhh, his palms pressed against her breasts.

"I love your body," he said. He lifted one of her legs and trailed kisses down it, each touch of his lips making her dizzy. He was between her thighs now, bending over and kissing her stomach. She gasped.

When his tongue touched the top of her slit, she cried out and bit her lip. He moved down slowly, slowly, maddeningly, painfully, the tip slipping over a magical spot that sent searing heat flashing into her brain. She grabbed the covers and arched her hips, shoving herself into her brother's face, offering herself like a dark sacrifice. He lapped her, and hot passion filled her stomach. She moaned and sighed. When he pulled back, the bottom of his face shone with her fluid and he was panting. He put his hands on her hips and pulled himself up until his face was hovering above hers, and his head was pressing _juuuuust_ above her hole. One fraction of an inch down, and he would be there.

He reached down and took himself in his hand. "D-Down," Lucy panted. He leaned in and kissed the tip of her nose as he guided himself to her opening. She slipped her arms around his neck.

When he thrusted, she jumped and let out a cry, pain mixture with pleasure; he was so big she felt like he was going to split her in two.

Lincoln bowed his head, his forehead touching Lucy's. Her rippling walls constricted against him, her muscles clamping. He braced his arms against the bed and pushed deeper. Lucy issued a hiss and hugged him tighter. When he could go no farther, he pulled back, and launched forward again.

"Oh, God!" Lucy moaned, her chest rising and falling. She let go and reached behind her head to grab the pillow. He wrapped one arm around her leg and lifted it; as he thrusted, he kissed her flesh, licked it, nibbled it. He felt like he was losing control. His body and mind were trembling. He lifted her other leg. They were in a V before him. He pressed his lips to her skin, kissed her ankle bone, the side of her foot. She moaned. "I'm almost there...almost there...almost..."

He thrusted harder, and she cried out. Her channel closed around him and squeezed. That did it. He jumped the tracks and bulged painfully inside of her. He clenched his teeth as his seed spilled into her, splashing her walls and spilling deep, deep into her stomach. She threw her arms around his neck and dragged him against her chest and she shook with the power of her orgasm; she gasped, sighed, moaned, and mewled into his ear, and he kissed the gentle swell of her throat, her pulse pounding under his lips.

When he began to shrink inside of her, he pulled out and rolled over, lying next to her on the bed.

"Wow," she panted and ran a hand through her hair. She could feel her brother's hot love sloshing inside of her, spreading its heat throughout her entire body. She tingled from head to toe, and she suddenly felt very drowsy.

Lincoln took her hand in his and kissed it. She looked at him. "How was it?"

Lincoln nodded. "Wow."

She giggled. "It was even better than I thought it would be."

"I agree." He rolled onto his side and draped his arm over her stomach. Grinning, she rolled onto _her_ side, and allowed him to draw her close. He buried his face into her warm hair and took a deep breath.

"This is nice," she said, her voice thick with sleepiness.

"Very nice," Lincoln concurred.

Cuddled in her brother's arm, Lucy fell asleep. Cuddling his sister, Lincoln, too, fell asleep.


	8. On Her Knees

_Oooooo, I just_ love _Fridays_ , Leni thought as she sat in front of her vanity Friday morning. Fridays meant the end of the week and the beginning of the weekend...two whole days of no school, two whole days where she could do fun stuff, like go to thw mall, go to the coffee shop, go to the mall, spend hours designing new dresses, go to the pool (was it still open?), go to the mall...oh, and have sex with Lincoln.

Leni smiled broadly at her reflection. She ran a brush through her long, silky blonde hair and hummed an airy tune. She was wearing a thin nightgown, and her nipples poked through, making two tiny mounds. They had been that way since the previous morning when Lincoln came into the hall with that _yummy_ boner; it took every ounce of self-control she had to not slip her hand into his underwear and touch it. Ummmm, morning, Lincy! The spot between her legs moistened, and she squeezed her legs together. Ohhhh, yes. That felt _good_.

But not as good as Lincy would feel as he pushed past her parted lips and filled her. A ripple of pleasure went through her, and she squirmed. You know what would be _totes_ hot? If he came in here right now, laid her back on the bed, and did her while Lori was still asleep...only feet away. And it would be _even hotter_ if Lori woke up and watched...and got turned on...and maybe even joined them. Leni shivered delightedly. Oh, oh, oh, it would be _really_ hot if he shoved her against the wall, pulled down her panties, and lifted one of her legs...

Eeeeeeeee! That would be _amazing_. An image flashed through her mind: Her bending over in front of her brother and grabbing her ankles, her dress riding up over her bare butt. _Lincy, can you help me? There's, like, a fire in my girl parts and I need you to put it out...with your hose..._

Then...oh then...he would put his hands on her hips and thrust into her, pumping until he shot his love deep into her. _Thanks, Lincy!_ Then she would walk away and it would course warmly down her legs, leaving burning trails along her soft flesh.

She was getting hot, like, literally. She finished brushing her hair and got up. It was only then that she realized there was a big wet patch at the crotch of her dress. Oopsie. She pulled the dress over her head and tossed it onto her bed. She was entirely naked, and when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she stopped to admire her body. Her breasts were full and firm, her stomach was taunt, her hips curved down and the Y of her sex was cleanly shaven. No yucky hair. Gross. Would Lincoln like her body? Would he run his hands up and down her legs and kiss her tummy and...

Okay, that's enough of _that_. You're, like, going to melt all over the floor. Mom will _not_ be happy. At the closet she selected a fresh night dress, slipped it on, and went to the bathroom, where she turned the shower on, her hand held under the spray. When the temperature was to her liking, she got naked and stepped in. She squirted a measure of body wash onto her loofa and rubbed it across her slick breasts, her stomach...down...down...ahhhh...

She pressed one hand to the wall as she washed between her legs. She'd been leaking since her last shower, so she was dirty and it required a _vigorous_ cleaning. In fact, she even had to put her finger inside and swirl it around just to make sure she...uhhhhh...got it all oooooout. Don't want any...oh, God...sticking around...yes, yes, yes. She leaned her forehead against the wall as she shook with her climax. Oops. Guess I cleaned a little _too_ vigorously.

She touched her chin with her finger. Or _did_ I? I don't want to be dirty...so I better do it again...and again...ooo, and again... _and again._

* * *

Lincoln Loud got to school three minutes before the first bell rang. He was running late that morning because, well...Lucy looked so good, and...yeah...they did it again. He'd heard that morning sex was good, but it wasn't...it was _grrrreat!_

He stopped at his locker, shoved his backpack in, and grabbed his history book. He got to class just as the bell started to sound. He slipped into his usual seat in the back and hung his head. Morning sex felt awesome and all, but it sure takes a lot out of a guy. He could use a nap.

Instead, he fought his drooping lids and gazed off into space. Hey, there's Clyde coming through the door holding Penelope's hand. Wassup, mang? Then there's Jimmy, Bobby, Tim (Tim's an asshole, fuck Tim), then...

Ronnie Anne came in, and Lincoln's breath caught in his throat. She was wearing a purple hoodie, short blue shorts, and purple socks pulled almost to her knees. Her black hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her head was bent, her books hugged close to her chest. She looked...sad, and Lincoln's heart clutched. She glanced up at him, then quickly away and took her seat.

Yesterday was so, uh, 'busy' that he never really stopped to think over the argument they had that afternoon. Okay, it wasn't really an argument, it was him blowing up at her. Man, he felt like an asshole now.

Still...human relationships are a two way street. You give, you take. You give what you get and not a single ounce less. He gave and gave and gave, but Ronnie Anne didn't give back. You know, come to think of it, she didn't even take. She was just there.

Lincoln sighed. Maybe he should talk to her.

But where would that get him? She'd just clam up and that would be that. He might as well talk to a brick wall.

But she was _so_ pretty. He rested his chin in his palm and leaned dreamily forward. It made him feel kind of bad to say this, but she was even prettier than Lucy...or Leni...or any of his other sisters.

At lunch, he hoped Ronnie Anne would come over, but he spotted her at an empty table, alone, looking despondent. He drew a deep breath. Next to him, Clyde and Penelope sucked face, the wet squelching sound getting on his nerves. Ugh, that's so gross. He looked around. Really, no one was going to stop this? I see you, Mr. Parker, standing against the wall with your arms crossed. Look over here, inappropriate display of affection, aisle three. Lincoln glanced at his friend. His hand was up her shirt, massaging her breast. Jesus Christ, really?

Whatever. He got up and left his tray. In the bathroom, he took a leak and washed his hands. For a few minutes, he hung out, waiting for the bell to ring. When it did, he scurried to his next class. _I wonder what Lucy's doing right now,_ he thought. _My sexy, sexy little sister..._

* * *

Lisa Loud shifted in her seat, the fire burning between her legs growing quite uncomfortable. Before her a sheet of construction paper was laid out on the desk. She was expected to trace her hand and then cut it out and color it so that it resembled an autumn leaf. Infantile. Insulting. Why not simply spit in her face? She looked around at the other children. _I don't belong here_ , she thought for the millionth time that school year. _I don't..._

She shifted and squeezed her legs. Her thighs were sticky and rubbed together painfully. _This is becoming irritating_.

An image of Lincoln's perfect naked form flitted through her mind, his sculpted muscles rippling under his warm, taunt skin like an American Adonis, his hands on his hips and his penis jutting out before him like a spear. She quivered as she imagined running her hands over his body.

 _For a little girl who had no sex drive this time yesterday, you're quite 'hot' now._

Strange, wasn't it?

Yes, yes it was. _Very_ strange. It was almost like the cause of the desire was external rather than internal...like her libido was being manipulated... _stimulated_.

When it hit her, Lisa's eyes went wide. God in heaven, the pheromone spritz! It was affecting her and all of her other sisters.

But how? It was designed to work only on males and only at close proximity. An abundance of it in the atmosphere _could_ theoretically affect females as well, but Lola, Lana, and Lucy all used the correct dosage. Had they sprayed it all willy-nilly up and down the halls, Lisa could understand, but they didn't. She thought back over the creation process. Did she do something wrong? She must have. Damn it. No wonder all of her sister suddenly wanted to copulate with Lincoln...and each other, and no wonder she was even now unconsciously wiggling her hand between her legs. She removed the offending appendage and crossed her arms.

When she got home, she would have to run a study. First, she needed to know if the affects would wear off, and if so, how long that would take. Second, she needed to know if the air at home was contaminated, and if it would eventually clear on its own or if she would have to clean it herself.

An image came unbidden into her mind: Lincoln thrusting into Lucy the night before. Oh, mama, that _was_ arousing. She watched the tape three times, and masturbated to completion each time. In fact, maybe she would watch it again when she got home and leave the problem of the infected atmosphere for later, or even tomorrow...

* * *

Lincoln got home at half-past three, his clothes soaking wet and his brow furrowed. All day, it was bright and sunny, but right before the final bell, dark gray clouds suddenly filled the sky and it started raining. Perfect. Just fucking perfect. He peeled out of his shirt and tossed it aside. Next, he kicked out of his saturated shoes, sat in the middle of the floor, and then peeled off his sopping socks. His underwear was dry, so he didn't have to change them, at least, which was good: He already ruined two pairs of underwear between the twins this week.

He gathered his things and ran up the stairs. In his room, he threw them into his hamper and selected a fresh change of clothes from his drawer. He pulled his pants on, then his shirt. Ahhh. Nothing felt better after being in wet clothes than putting on dry clothes. He flopped onto the bed and crossed his hands over his stomach. Friday afternoon. He had over 48 hours of time on his hands. _Call me Styx_ , he thought. Okay, it wasn't _too_ much time, but it was a lot. What to do, what to do? He was fresh out of comics, none his video games sounded appealing. You know...maybe a little nap. He was still kind of tired from Lucy.

Um. Sweet, sweet Lucy. He smacked his lips and swore he could still taste her mouth. He started to get hard. He slipped his hand down the front of his pants and took hold of his meaty spear. "Later," Lincoln told it, giving it a friendly squeeze. "But now, we sl..." he trailed off as his phone buzzed in his pocket. Hm. That you, Lucy?

He whipped it out and opened it up.

No, it was not Lucy.

It was Ronnie Anne.

"Im at ur door. Let me in."

Aw, Jesus. If she was coming around that meant only one thing: She wanted to yell at him. Or punch him in the face. Certainly she didn't want to talk. Talking is for rational people.

But she was _soooooo_ pretty.

Lincoln got up and shifted his boner so that it didn't poke her in the face when he opened the door. He tumbled down the stairs and paused in the foyer. Should I punch her back this time? That's the only kind of language she understands. You know what, yeah. No more being a bitch. It's 2017 and women want full equality. Cool. You punch me, expect to get punched back.

He took a deep breath and opened the door.

Ronnie Anne was standing there, the shoulders of her hoodie dark with rain. She offered a weak half-smile. "Hey."

So, so pretty. Damn. Down, lil' Linc.

"Hey."

For a minute they looked at each other. Ronnie rubbed the back of her neck. "Can I...come in?"

Oh, yeah, right. Lincoln stepped aside and she brushed past him in a swish of sweet smelling air. Lincoln craned his neck, following her with his eyes. The bare patches of her legs between the cuffs of her shorts and the tops of her socks were the color of warm bronze. _How_ warm? He couldn't say, but he certainly wanted to touch them and find out.

She turned, and even though he felt a flush of shame, he made no attempt to look away. "Uh...you alright?"

He looked up and into her dark eyes. "I am now."

She cocked an eyebrow, but was that a very faint blush on her cheeks? "Ooookay. Can we...go to your room? We, uh...we need to talk."

The tone of her voice was serious, and he sobered. Really, talk? Hm. Strange days. Strange, strange days. "Alright. Come on."

He led her up the stairs and to his room, where he dropped onto the edge of the bed. She came in and closed the door behind her. His stomach knotted. What did she want to talk about? Was she going to chew him out for being a dick? Was she...oh, God...was she going to profess her profound and undying love for him? He hoped it was the latter.

For a moment she simply looked at him, her hands shoved into the pockets of her hoodie and her lips a tight, thoughtful slash. Then she came forward...

...and sank to her knees before him.

"Uh, what are you doing?"

Resting her hands on the tops of her thighs, she looked up at him with wide eyes. "Lincoln," she finally said with a sigh, "I _do_ like you."

Lincoln blinked. "R-Really?"

She nodded, her ponytail bobbing up and down. "Yeah. It's hard for me to say that. So...I'm going to show you." She reached toward his crotch and he tensed. With both hands, she unbuttoned his jeans and then pulled down the zipper. Oh, shit, Lincoln thought dizzily, a goofy grin spreading across his face. "Lift up and pull your underwear down."

He did as he was told. When he sprang out, she went cross-eyed looking at it. "Whoa."

"You like it?"

She craned her neck left and right then looked at him. "Yeah," she said with a little grin. Lincoln opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off by wrapping her hand around his length and bringing him to her lips. She brushed them against his sensitive tip in a sexy greeting. He was already starting to leak; he could see it shinning on her lips. She looked up at him, then took him into her warm, wet mouth, forming her lips around his soft flesh and moving her head slowly forward. Lincoln's breath caught in his throat and he tilted his head back. She had no idea how long he had been waiting for this moment. He reached up and threaded his fingers through her warm black hair.

She swirled her tongue around his tip, and a painful shiver shot up his spine like a bolt of electricity. "Oh, Ronnie Anne," he whispered. She drew back until his head was between her soft lips, then surged forward, taking him all the way to the back of her throat. He ran his fingers through her hair, over the top of her head, to the back of her head, down the swell of her neck. She sighed against him and went faster, the velvety inner walls of her cheeks scraping the sides of his shaft maddeningly while the tip of her tongue dragged along his underside. He was getting _really_ dizzy. And his back was tingling. Was that normal?

Ronnie Anne bottomed out, then drew back again, her lips tightly molded around him, caressing every ridge and bump on the way up. She pulled all the way back and panted. "You taste _really_ good," she said thickly.

"Ummm. You _feel_ really good."

She took him in her mouth once more, rocking her head up and down faster than before. A warm, gooey mixture of his precum and her salvia swished around him and dripped down her chin. He twitched and his balls tightened as she slowly drew his load out of him: He could feel it moving upriver, into his shaft, rushing, building, _crashing_. "I'm cumming!" he blurted, and Ronnie Anne increased her speed.

He let go, and his orgasm burst out of him like cannon fire, hitting the back of her throat and filling her mouth. She pulled back, her lips and chin dripping with his love; looking pointedly into his eyes, she swallowed.

Lincoln took a long, shivery breath. "Was it good?" she asked cutely.

He nodded. "Uh-huh." His voice was shaky.

She grinned cockily. "Good." She got to her feet, leaned in, and pressed her lips to his. He didn't care if his load was just in her mouth: He opened his lips and slipped his tongue over hers. She took his face in both hands and kissed him slowly, passionately. When she pulled back, she was grinning. "Don't ever say I don't like you again, jerkass. I got on my knees for you. You think I'd do that for just anyone?"

Lincoln grinned and shook his head. "No."

"That's right. You're special to me." She pecked his lips. "I gotta go, but one day soon, I expect you to return the favor."

He kissed the tip of her chin. "I'd be _happy_ to."


	9. Most Folks Don't

Lisa Loud got home and logged onto her computer just as her brother launched his hot load into Ronnie Anne Santiago's mouth. Oh. _That_ was unexpected.

Wait. Was _she_ affected too?

On the screen, she got up and kissed Lincoln. _"Don't ever say I don't like you again, jerkass. I got on my knees for you. You think I'd do that for just anyone?"_

Lisa adjusted her glasses. No, it looked like a routine sexual encounter. Though after being in the house and breathing the tainted air, she would probably wind up turning into another Lynn...who was masturbating in her bed again, her eyes narrowing as she bucked against her hand. Lisa's loins stirred and she leaned in. You know, Lynn, it feels much better when someone does that for you...say a bespectacled little sister...Lisa shook her head. No, no, that comes later. First she had to get a handle on the situation. She removed a small device from her drawer. It was the size and boxy shape of a pocket radio, black with dials, knobs, and a digital readout. She turned one of the knobs, and it came on with a sound like a knife scraping canvas. A series of black dashes appeared on the screen. She sat it in her lap, took the perfume bottle from the desk, and, using an eyedropper, extracted a tiny amount. She put the liquid on a slide and jammed it into an opening at the bottom of the device.

She looked back at the computer screen while she waited for it to load. The twins were engaged in sex play, Lana bent over and Lola inserting her fingers into her sister's vagina; Lori was...when did Bobby get here? Lisa looked closer. Her oldest sister rode her boyfriend like he was a rented scooter. In Luan and Luna's room, the two were performing oral sex on each other in the quote unquote 69 position. In the living room, Lucy sat on the couch, a juice box in one hand and the TV remote in the other. Hm. She seemed normal. Then again, she had sex with Lincoln twice, which may have been enough to cool the embers in her loins. In Mom and Dad's room...Lisa gaped. She certainly knew about anal sex, but...shiver.

The thermohydrocounter beeped, and Lisa looked down at it, turning a dial and pressing a button. She got up and walked around the room, the device held over her head. When she looked at it, she saw just what she suspected she would: The pheromonal levels were greatly elevated. In the hall, where she could hear Lana gasping, their mother moaning, and Lori crying Bobby's name, it was the same, as it was in the kitchen, the living room, and even the basement, though in the basement the levels were at their lowest. She imagined they would be at their highest in the attic. Any amount of time spent up there would probably turn one into a raving sex maniac.

First, she closed off the attic stairs, then installed portable air filtration units in the hall, in the living room, and in the second floor airduct (with Lucy's help). By six, it was done. The phermonal levels would slowly drop over the next twenty-four hours, and everything would be back to normal.

Unless someone caught pregnant.

Eh. There was always abortion.

* * *

Lincoln came awake in the dark, his head fuzzy and his eyes aching. For a moment he was completely disoriented. Who am I? Why am I here? Well, you see, James, you're supposed to by my running mate...Lincoln lifted his head from the pillow and blinked. The digital readout on the clock said it was 7:58. _7:58? Holy shit, I'm late for school!_

He jumped up, but his feet tangled and he crashed to the floor with a strangled cry. For a long moment he simply lay there. _I give up. I'm coming, Elizabeth. It's the big one._

Wait a minute. Why the fuck is it dark outside?

Lincoln's head spun as he pushed himself up. The world made no sense. It was dark at eight in the morning, hot snow fell up, Ronnie Anne kissed him and told him he was special...

It all came flooding back to him. Ah, okay, it's gotta be eight in the evening then _and holy shit she got on her knees and sucked my dick!_ Getting on your knees in front of someone is like putting yourself at their mercy, surrendering control and assuming a submissive position.

She really did that?

Yeah, nothing makes sense anymore.

Except the rumble in his stomach. _Why didn't anyone wake me for dinner?_ He shook his head as he got to his feet. Assholes. _Hey,_ he could hear Luan saying, _Linc's not here, guess I get his portion. Yuck, yuck, yuck._

 _Man, if there's not a covered plate in the microwave there's gonna be hell to pay_.

In the hall, he paused. The light was on but all of the doors were closed. He didn't hear any yelling, laughing, fighting, loud music, balls thumping against walls, breathy Lucy sighs, _literally_ s, or anything else. Huh. Did the Rapture happen or something? Shhhh, it better have happened _after_ Mom cooked dinner.

Rubbing his empty stomach, he went down the stairs. The lamp on the end table by the front window was on, but the TV was not. Really, no one's watching TV? A twinge of fear pulled at his heart. Okay, something really awful must have happened.

When he went into the kitchen, he breathed a sigh of relief. Leni was bent over the counter, her back arched and her butt (and a nice butt it was!) stuck out, the fabric of her auquamarnie dress (which stopped _weeeelll_ above her knees) clinging tightly to her form. Her arms were crossed on the formica surface and she stared down at an open magazine, her head bobbing from side to side and a beautiful tune humming on her sensuous lips. She unconsciously rubbed her thighs together and her butt moved left and right. Lincoln's jaw dropped and an ember of fire sparked in the pit of his stomach. He'd noticed how beautiful his older sister was, but goddamn, she was enough to stop a freight train...or start the Third World War.

She glanced at him, and her face brightened. "Hi, Lincy!"

Lincoln closed his mouth with a snap. "H-Hey."

She giggled. "I was _wondering_ where you were."

"Yeah, I'm kind of wondering the same about everyone else. Are we left behind?"

Leni raised one eyebrow quizzically. "Huh?"

"Where is everyone?"

"Oh. They're all...busy."

"Oh."

"It's just you and me," she purred.

He looked her up and down, from the tips of her painted toenails, up her silky legs, her rounded behind, the curve of her back, her golden hair, and finally her half-lidded eyes. "Are you checking me out?" she asked.

"Yes," Lincoln said, "I am."

She smiled. "How about you check me out with your hands?"

Lincoln's heart sputtered and a grin spread across his face. "Yeah?"

"Uh-huh," she drew.

"If you insist..."

"I do."

Lincoln crossed the space separating them, his bare feet padding on the cold linoleum floor. She watched him come with smoldering eyes. When he was behind her, she turned back to her magazine and wiggled her butt. He admired it for a second, his eyes searching for her panty line but not seeing it.

 _She's probably not wearing any,_ he thought, and shivered.

"Well?" she asked over her shoulder. "Aren't you going to touch me?"

He was rock hard again. _Where's all this nut coming from, damn?_ Not that he was complaining. He reached out and laid his hands on her butt. It was firm and warm under his touch. "Ahhhhh, Lincy, that's nice."

"You like it?"

"I _love_ it."

He squeezed her cheeks then released, running his hands up the small of her back, his fingers tracing the outline of her spine and her shoulder blades. She threw back her head and sighed as his palms slid over her. His heart pounded faster. If only this dress wasn't in the way...

Back to her hips, over her butt, down to her thighs, his hands touching bare, warm skin...really warm. Wow. Wet heat radiated from between her legs. He sputtered as he worked his hands down the backs of her legs and then up along her outer thighs. When he reached the hem of her dress, he slipped his hands underneath and pressed his palms firmly against her as he struck north. Yep. No panties. Her butt was totally and completely naked against his touch.

She gasped and leaned forward on her elbows, her hair spilling over her face. "Lincy?"

"Yeah?" he asked, and it was only then that he realized he was panting _and_ drooling.

She looked over her shoulder and brushed her hair out of her face. "There's, like, a fire and I need you to cum in me."

Lincoln blinked.

"Wait," she said, "that didn't come out right..."

But Lincoln smiled. He wasn't the strongest, or the fastest, but he wasn't the dumbest, either. He slipped the hem of her dress over her rear and the swell of her back. For a moment he looked at it, marveling. _Dat ass, tho._

Then he leaned forward and kissed her back. "Ummmm," she moaned. He kissed lower, and lower, until he was on his knees and she was spread before him, her heat and musky scent softly caressing his face and tantalizing his nostrils. He could see _everything_ , and it was beautiful. Her hole was slick. Her other hole, pink and puckered, looked so tight he had a hard time believing she was even able to poop.

 _Well, that makes sense, since angels don't poop and Leni is an angel._

Lincoln remembered a raunchy joke Luan told him once that went: A woman's asshole is like a 9volt battery. You know it's wrong, but eventually you're going to stick your tongue on it. He gripped her cheeks tightly in both hands, lifted his head, and touched the tip of his tongue to it. She jumped and giggled.

You'd think butt would taste bad, but you'd be wrong. At least not _her_ butt. He spiraled his tongue around the rim of her back entrance, and she sucked air through clenched teeth. She was delicious.

He took one hand from her butt and slipped it between her legs, cupping her in his palm. "Oooooh, Lincy," she said as he began to massage her warm, silken sex with his fingertips. His middle finger slipped into her wet middle, and her body tensed around him. "Mmmmmmmmmm..."

Lincoln pulled back from her and took a deep breath. Her leaking fluid coated his lips; he could feel some of it coursing down his chin. His dick ached between his legs, pulsing in anticipation of being inside the heavenly creature before him.

His massaged her lips faster; the way she trembled in pleasure made him lightheaded with desire. He got to his feet and unzipped his pants, one hand resting on the slope of her back. His pants fell to his ankles, and he pulled his underwear down; he came free and poked her cheek. "Ah, there it is," she said dreamily. "Your Lincy-hose."

He couldn't help but smile. Sometimes she was so cute it hurt.

"That's right."

"You're going to put out my Leni-fire?"

"Uh-huh," he said, taking himself in his hand and pressing his tip against her moist opening.

"And take my virginity?"

"I suppose."

"Yay! I wouldn't give it to anyone else."

Lincoln was genuinely touched. He laid his left hand on her lower back and guided his tip into her. He pushed his hips forward, and he sank into her, his tip parting the pedals of her flower and filling her channel. "Ooooh, yes," she said, resting her head on her arms. He went slow at first, but then faster, his body unconsciously rising until he was standing on the tips of his toes. Inside, his penis scraped along Leni's roof, and she thrusted her hips back against him. She lifted her head and gripped the edge of the countertop and pursed her lips closed against a cry. He was _so_ much better than her fingers...so big, so thick, so long, his tip poking the opening of her womb and making her eyelids flutter.

Lincoln tightened his grip on her fleshy hips and banged (that was the only word to describe it) harder, his body slapping against hers against hers with a meaty _thwock, thwock, thwock._ She pushed back against him, using the edge of the counter for leverage. "Lincoln," she moaned.

He swiveled his hips, and his dick swirled around her rippling, velvet insides. She gasped and threw herself back faster, faster. They were slamming together now in sweet time, his balls slapping her clit. Heat filled her body, and she threw her head back. She was close.  
"Faster!"

He grabbed her shoulders and jammed himself as far as he could go. She cried out and her walls closed around him. "I'm cuuuuuuuuuuuahhhhhhhhh..." she bowed her head as her orgasm tore through her like a bomb blast, her hips pulling forward and yanking Lincoln's load from the pit of his stomach: It flooded her shaft and gushed into her womb.

She crossed her arms on the countertop and rested her fevered head as she sucked air into her heaving lungs. Lincoln held onto her hips for dear life. His legs were shaking and if he moved, he would fall. "How's that fire?" he asked breathlessly.

"Ummm, it's out," she replied, "for now."

"Good," he said, and pulled out. A mixture of his fluid and hers dripped down the backs of her legs. He had the urge to lick it up. "I'm starved. Is there food?"

"Uhhhh...we didn't have dinner."

Lincoln cocked his eyebrow. "Why not?"

"I told you, silly," she said as she pulled her dress down over her butt – a dark patch instantly formed – "everyone's busy."

"Doing what?"

"Each other."

"What?"

"I think there are Hot Pockets. Do you want a Hot Pocket, Lincy?"

He started to ask what the hell she meant, but stopped. "Yeah, actually, I could go for a Hot Pocket."


	10. Climax

Lynn Loud clutched Lucy's tiny body close as her orgasm rocketed through her, her gyrating hips slowly coming to a stop. They were lying in Lynn's bed, Lynn's shorts around her ankles and Lucy's leggings on the floor and her dress hiked up around her hips. Lucy's butt was warm and slick against Lynn's throbbing girlhood. They had been taking turns doing this for almost two hours. It was nice, but it wasn't what Lynn craved. Like that old lady in the Wendy's commercial, she wanted _the beef_. Linco the pinko was sleeping, though, and he looked so peaceful that even in her lustful haze she couldn't bring herself to wake him.

Lynn's heart pounded against Lucy's back, and the smell of her sister's hair filled her nose. Under her hands, Lucy's stomach quivered. She was probably horny again. Well...Lynn couldn't have that. Her little sister was kind enough to peel off her leggings and hike her dress up when Lynn needed her...she deserved payback. Lynn kissed the nape of Lucy's neck and slipped her hand between her legs. Lucy sighed as Lynn rubbed her middle finger between her slit, where she was warm and moist and soft. Kissing her neck again, Lynn found her clit and rubbed it in quick circles. Lucy's gasps rose until she clamped her teeth down on the pillow and squeezed her legs together. She cried out and shook when she came.

"I don't know if I can cum anymore," she said.

Lynn sighed. "Yeah, I _really_ need Lincoln's dick."

"Well, go on. He's probably awake."

"What time is it, anyway?"

"Almost midnight."

 _"Midnight?"_

"Yes."

Oh. Well, scratch that. They had been taking turns rubbing against each other's butts for nearly _four_ hours. Time flies when you're having fun, sure, but wow.

Lucy slipped out of bed and stood on quaking legs, putting her arms out for balance. Lynn got up and slipped her arm around her sister's waist. "Whoa, there, spooky, let me help you."

"Thanks."

Lynn helped her sister over to her bed, pausing to draw back the covers and then lifting them over her body. "Thanks," Lucy said again, this time with a little smile.

"No prob," Lynn said, bending over and kissing Lucy on the forehead. "Sweet dreams, sis."

"Have fun with Lincoln."

"Oh, I will."

The hall was dark and quiet. At one end, a light shone under Lincoln's door. She was halfway to it when she realized she forgot to put her shorts back on: She was wearing a pair of socks and a jersey that barely covered her. Oh well. She wouldn't need shorts for what _she_ had in mind.

At Lincoln's door she knocked lightly.

"Yeah?"

Lynn turned the knob and poked her head in. He was stretched out on his bed, a book held up to his face. He was dressed in only his underwear, his taunt skin and budding muscles bared for Lynn to see. Her core tingled and she licked her lips.

He looked over the top of his book, and smiled. "I know why you're here," he said.

"Yeah?" she asked, challenging. "Why am I here?"

He threw the book aside and, keeping his eyes locked on hers, pulled down his underwear. His penis flopped out and twitched as it began to inflate. Lynn's jaw dropped and her eyes danced across its length. The tingle in her core became an inferno in her stomach.

He kicked out of his underwear and put his arms behind his head. His grin was so cocky, so self-assured, that Lynn found herself wanting to knock it off of his face...after she fucked him.

"What makes you think I'm here for _that_ little thing?" She grinned against her will. It was anything _but_ little.

He shrugged. "Eh. I could be wrong. I'll just take care of this myself..." He grabbed himself and started stroking.

"Oh, no you don't," Lynn said. She shut the door behind her and went to him with a grin. She knelt on the bed and leaned back on her knees, letting her eyes drift over his perfectly formed body, the fire spreading from her center and enveloping her whole body.

"You're cute when you blush," he said.

"Shut up," she said and bowed her head. He moved, and his penis swayed slightly back and forth. Oh, yeah. That was hot. She glanced at him, her ponytail swishing, then back to his dick. Her hand ached to touch it. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of her going after it like a bitch in heat, though.

Ummmm, but she totally was.

Screw it. She reached out and wrapped her fingers around it. It was warm and full against her palm, the skin surprisingly soft and smooth. She looked at Lincoln's arrogant face and giggled...actually giggled, like a little girl. "It's nice," she said.

He reached up and brushed the back of his hand against her cheek. She blushed furiously and sucked her bottom lip in. "You're still blushing," he said.

She shook her head, the tip of her ponytail hitting either side of her face.

"Yes you are," he grinned.

He put his hand on the back of her neck and guided her lips to his: She was powerless to stop him...not that she wanted to. Their noses brushed and they kissed, their tongues meeting and slowly moving against one another. She shifted and hooked one leg over him, then shifted again. She was on top of him, his legs caged her between her thighs. Her sultry warmth showered his flesh. Jeez, all of his sisters were ovens.

She pulled back and positioned her hole at the tip of his dick. "So much for foreplay," Lincoln said.

She cocked her head and squinted her eyes. "Fuck you."

"You are."

She sank onto him, his penis shooting into her and pushing her virgin walls apart. She inhaled over clenched teeth. It hurt...but it felt good too. Just like Lucy said. Lincoln watched her with dark eyes and a tiny smile. She laid her hands on his chiseled chest and rocked her hips back and forth. He slipped his hands up her shirt and along her hips. Her skin was hot.

He scraped against her canal. She could feel every contour, every ridge. Her heart pounded and her mouth was dry: She tried to work up salvia but couldn't. She _could_ however taste her brother's mouth still.

Licking his lips, Lincoln moved his hands up from her hips and to her breasts; his thumbs brushed across her nipples and she purred. _Like a lioness mating with her king._

She rocked her hips faster and faster. The bed was shaking, the headboard slapping the wall. She didn't care about being quiet, though. The only way to enjoy the company of your sexy little brother is loudly. She went faster still. Lincoln tweaked her nipples and a mixture of pleasure and pain scattered into her brain. She could already feel herself beginning to tip over the edge. _No, no, no! Don't cum, Lynn! Make it laaaaaaaast!_

But nature won out. Lincoln squeezed her breasts and heat exploded through her. She hung her head forward and arched her back as she came. Lincoln touched her face and looked up at her with a grin. "Switch me spots," he said.

Wide eyed from her first orgasm with a boy (and _Lincoln_ at that, yum!), she simply nodded and slipped off of him, stretching out beside him on the bed. He mounted her, and she parted her legs for him. He pushed his girl-cum coated tool against her, then jerked, surging into her with a gasp. Lynn cried out.

He hooked an arm under her leg and lifted it as he rhythmically thrusted into her. She closed her eyes and turned herself over to sensation. He lifted her other leg. Her ankles were resting on his shoulders, and something about that position made her feel so helpless, so vulnerable, so completely _dominated_ that she moaned in pleasure. He could do anything he wanted to her, and she would have no choice but to let him, to lay back and watch it happen...

Another orgasm ripped through her body. Lincoln grabbed her ankles and thrusted so deep it hurt. She yelped.

"Take it, bitch," he panted.

"I'm your bitch," she gasped.

" _I'm_ in charge."

"You own me."

"You do whatever I say."

She could feel another orgasm forming. "I-I-I'm your slave."

He thrusted smoothly, gliding on a mixture of their juices. She tossed her head back and forth. Jesus, she couldn't take it anymore. He suddenly went stiff. Why are you stopping? Then he swelled and bucked against her: When his hot cum pumped into her, she came _hard_ , biting her lip so hard it bled, her hands flying to her head and tugging at her hair. She thrusted her hip as molten lava spilled deep into her stomach and formed a burning pool.

"Whoa," she breathed. "You're pretty good."

"At this point, I've had a lot of practice."

"You know what they say, Loud; practice makes perfect."

He grinned. "Was it perfect?"

She nodded. "Better than Lucy." She giggled.

He rolled off of her and laid his arm across her chest. Within minutes, he was asleep, his back rising and falling and gentle snores rising from his nose. Lynn leaned over and kissed the top of his head. "I love you, Lincoln."

She got up, and he started spilling out of her. She looked around, saw his shirt on the floor, grabbed it, and pressed it to her crotch. "Sorry, Linc."

With that, she waddled away, turning off the light and closing the door behind her.

* * *

In her room, Lisa watched. She glanced at another window. Luna and Luan were doing it yet again, Luan's head between Luna's legs and Luna's hand threading through Luan's hair.

She felt nothing.

The antidote worked. Thank God. Now, to convert it into a mist that could be distributed via the air vents. She _would_ have done it earlier, but due to her parents and older siblings...condition...it had fallen to her to care for Lilly. Feeding, diapers, and bathing. By the time she was done with the latter her sweater was soaked and soap suds coursed down her face. She couldn't lie, though; she rather enjoyed herself.

She got up and went over to Lilly's crib, using a step stool to peer over the railing: The youngest Loud was lying on her back, one hand curled into a tiny fist. Lisa smiled then went back to her computer. Lincoln was lying on his stomach asleep, his bare butt whiter than his arms and legs. One day, she thought, she would develop a sex drive and figuratively become a woman. For now, however, she was content to focus on her studies. If her libido was anything like her sisters', once she _did_ develop a sex drive, she would have time for little else.

Sighing, she went off to ready the antidote.

* * *

Luan flopped back against her sister's bed and lifted her skirt. Between her legs, Luna watched her with half-lidded eyes. "It's strange."

"What's strange?" Luan asked.

"I expected you to taste funny. Get it?"

With that, Luna dipped her head, and Luan took a deep breath as that warm, wet, _talented_ tongue attacked her genitals. Didn't she want to have sex with Lincoln? Oh, yeah, she did...but that was before she discovered how good Luna was.

Luan ran her hands through Luna's hair and lifted her hips. Nothing...oh...could top...uhhhh...a sister's...ahhhhhh...kiss.


End file.
